IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


r- 


\ 


1.0  ^1^  1^ 

1.1  1/^  US 

WW.- 

1.8 


1.25      1.4   1  I/, 

^ 

■■ 6"     ' 

► 

7 


r 


>r 


/ 


L 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  MSSO 

(716)872-4S03 


5.^. 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Inttituta  for  Historical  IMicroraproductions  /  Inatitut  Canadian  da  microraproductiona  hiatoriquaa 


iV 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notet/Notat  tachniquas  at  bibliographiquas 


Tha  inatituta  haa  attamptad  to  obtain  tha  baat 
original  copy  availabia  for  filming.  Faaturaa  of  thia 
copy  which  may  ba  bibllographicaliy  unlqua. 
which  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagaa  in  tha 
raproduction,  or  which  may  aignificantly  changa 
tha  uaual  mathod  of  filming,  ara  chacicad  balow. 


n 


D 
D 


D 


Coiourad  covart/ 
Couvartura  da  coulaur 


r~~|    Covara  damagad/ 


Couvartura  andommagAa 

Covara  raatorad  and/or  laminatad/ 
Couvartura  raataurAa  at/ou  palliculAa 

Covar  titia  miaaing/ 

La  titra  da  couvartura  manque 

Coiourad  mapa/ 

Cartaa  gAographiquaa  en  couleur 


□   Coloured  Inic  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  blacic)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

rn    Coloured  plataa  and/or  illuatrationa/ 


D 


Planchaa  et/ou  illuatrationa  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Relii  avac  d'nutret  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  reliure  serrAe  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  la  long  de  la  marge  intArieure 

Blanic  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certalnes  pages  blanches  aJoutAes 
lore  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  la  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  Atait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  it*  fiimdas. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  supplAmantaires; 


L'Institut  a  microfilm*  la  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'll  lui  a  kxh  poaaibla  de  aa  procurer.  Lea  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  aont  peut-Atre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mAthoda  normala  de  filmage 
sont  indiqute  ci-daaaous. 


rn   Coiourad  pagea/ 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagAea 

Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pages  restaurAes  at/ou  pelllculAes 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxei 
Pages  dteolorAes,  tachatAea  ou  plquAas 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  d^tachAea 

Showthroughy 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prir 

Quality  inAgale  de  I'lmpresslon 

Includes  supplementary  matarii 
Comprend  du  matAriel  suppMmentaira 


I — I  Pages  damaged/ 

r~~1  Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 

r~1  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 

r~|  Pages  detached/ 

I     j  Showthrough/ 

I     I  Quality  of  print  varies/ 

I     I  Includes  supplementary  material/ 


D 
0 


Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  diaponlbia 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  heve  been  ref limed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totaiement  ou  partiallement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  At*  filmies  A  nouveau  de  fapon  A 
obtenir  la  mailleure  image  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checiced  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film*  au  taux  da  reduction  indiqu*  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


26X 


30X 


24)0 


12X 


16X 


20X 


28X 


32X 


I 


lAtails 
es  du 
modifier 
•r  une 
filmage 


The  copy  filmed  here  ha«. 
to  the  generoeity  of: 


been  reproduced  thanks 


Library  of  Congress 
Photodupllcatlon  Service 

The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quaiity 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


L'exemplaire  filmA  fut  reproduit  grAce  A  la 
gAnArositA  de: 

Library  of  Congress 
Photoduplication  Service 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  iiti  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  at 
de  la  nettetA  de  Texempiaire  film6,  at  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


lAes 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  ^»-  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  y  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  ImprimAe  sont  filmAs  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  at  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  salon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmte  en  commenpant  par  la 
premiere  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  at  en  terminant  par 
la  dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaftra  sur  la 
dernlAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ►  signifie  "A  SUIVRE  ",  le 
symbols  y  signifie  "FIN". 


lire 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
filmte  A  des  taux  de  reduction  diff Arents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clichA,  11  est  filmA  A  partir 
de  I'angle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  A  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nAcessalre.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mAthode. 


by  errata 
led  to 

snt 

une  pelure, 

apon  A 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

32X 


B 


wmmmmggt 


IMIilllPIIB 


OtMpMr 
XIX. 


CONTENTB. 


A  CJOWWOBATIOll,  . 

EBTRAMOBMCM'n,       . 

Qua  Btakt  QxTBmavD,    . 

DOUBTIMO  OAOTIiB, 

WAim  AMID  THB  FliOWBBB, 

POBTBAIT  PAINXniO, 

PBOrVBBBD  Fbibkdbhip,  . 
Obaduatiwo  Homobs, 

III  THB  GBBBKWOOP, 

San  Pbbb, 

PliBABAirt  PlOTtJBBB, 

A  Vmhtob,     . 

OliOBB  B»  THB  OAIBB,. 
Ik  TBB  HOSPITAIi, 
HOMB  AOAIM, 

MianoM  WoBB, 
At  Wob»  Aoaw, 

IH  BXTBBIUB, 
HBIiP  AT  LABT, 
WBIiOOMB  Nbwr, 

TsB  Iiin>i    • 


Pac* 
.231 


.356 

,   9BA 
.986 

.  m 

.  su 

.  838 
.  848 

.  876 
.  806 
.  403 
.   418 
.  433 
.   468 
.  479 
.   491 
.  600 
.   B06 


CHAPTER  I. 

FIB8T  DAY  AT  SCHOOL. 

« 

WYWO  young  girls  were  standing  apart,  talking 

\\(      very  earnestly  together,  on  the  playground 

A       of  a  veiy  select  private  school.    "She  is  a 

pretty  little  thing,"  one  of  them  was  saying,  "and 

seems  to  have  been  well  trained." 

"  I  don't  care  if  she  is ;  no  girl  wearing  such  a  frock 
and  boots  should  have  the  impudence  to  come  here. 
What  is  the  use  of  having  a  private  school  and  pay- 
ing such  lots  of  money  if  beggers  are  allowed  to  at- 
tend?" 

"It  is  cruel,  Helen,  to  call  her  a  beggar;  besides 
her  clothes  are  neat  and  clean.  I  have  been  having 
such  a  nice  time  all  by  myself  looking  at  her  trim 
Uttle  figure  and  costume.    I  assure  you  it  is  quite 


mmmm 


mm 


g  MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

a  Study  —  at  least  it  must  have  been  to  the  one  who 

thought  it  out  and  put  it  together  so  gracefully." 
"You  are  the  queerest  girl,  Magdalene,  I  ever 

knew ;  if  your  father  weren't  so  awfully  rich  I  should 

leave  you  severely  alone." 

"I  do  noc  care  for  such  friendship  if  that  is  why 
you  are  so  friendly  with  me."  A  stern  look  came 
into  the  usually  gentle  fane,  which  her  companion 
hastened  to  dispel.  "I  was  only  joking;  if  your 
boots  were  patched  like  that  new  comer's  I  should 

still  love  you." 

Magdalene  looked  a  little  doubtful.  «Iam  glad  I 
am  not  forced  to  wear  patched  boots ;  but  if  I  had  I 
am  afraid  you  would  get  some  other  girl  for  par- 
ticular friend." 

They  passed  out  of  hearing  of  the  little  girl  who 
thatmoruing  had  come  with  some  fear  but  a  great 
deal  of  delightful  anticipation  to  school,  the  first  she 
had  ever  attended.    Only  a  year  before  her  father  had 
died,  after  months  of  sickness  caused  by  a  blow  on 
the  chest  from  a  case  they  were  hoisting  at  the  store 
where  he  was  clerk.    Then  while  her  mother  was 
learning  a  trade  whereby  to  earn  a  living  for  her 
children,  Mildred,  only  a  child  herself,  took  charge 
of  the  younger  ones,  becoming  a  sort  of  little  mother 
to  Paul  and  Gracie.    Long  ago,  before  the  sad  days 


FIRST  DAT  AT  SCBOOL.  '^ 

had  come,  when  the  father  was  weU  and  the  mother 
only  had  her  pretty,  cosy  home  to  keep  in  order  and 
her  little  ones  to  care  for,  she  had  taken  special  care 
with  Mildred's  education.    To  keep  her  from  evil  in- 
fluences she  had  taught  her  at  home;  so  that  now, 
at  twelve,  the  poor  child  had  her  first  experiences  of 
school  life.    She  had  started  out  that  morning  with 
such  shy  eagerness ;  she  had  thought  of  it  by  day 
and  dreamed  of  it  at  night,  wondering  if  the  first  of 
September  would  ever  come;  while  her  mother  had 
tried  so  hard  to  get  her  dressed  suitably,  and  the  ef- 
forts, acco^diug  to  Mildred's  ideas,  had  been  crowned 
with  such  perfect  success,  she  had  felt  herself  well 
enough  dressed  to  call  on  the  President  at  the  White 
House  as  she  walked  down  the  quiet  street  from  their 
cottage  to  the  crowded  thoroughfare  that  led  to  the 
school-house.    Paul  and  Gi-acie  had  stood  at  the  gate 
watching  her,  while  mother  glanced  up  from  her  work 
with  a  happy  feeling  in  her  heart  as  she  watched 
her  daughter  starting  out  with  the  busier  currents 
of  Ufe.    She  was  willing  to  take  a  good  many  extra 
stitches    in    order    that    her    daughter    might   be 
preserved  from  the  rude  companionship  of  a  public 
school    She  seemed,  in  spite  of  thehr  poverty,  so 
dainty  and  .flower-like,  the  mother  longed  to  pre- 
serve  this    charftoteristio    of  her   first-bom^   The 


:W 


t 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

school-room  reached,    Mildred's  courage  hega^  to 
depart  with  uncomfortable    speed.     Scattered    in 
groups  about  the  grounds  were  such  handsomely 
dressed    boys  and   girls,    that   her    own    clothes, 
which  had  seemed  so  excellent,  suddenly  became 
shabby;  but  worse  than  all  were  the  words  she 
had  just  overheard  from  two  of  her  school-mates. 
Fortunately  the  school  bell  won  rang,  and  after  a 
while  Mildred  became  so  interested  in  the  lessons, 
the  pain  at  her  heart  was  somewhat  deadened.    But 
when  the  luncheon  bell  rang  and  the  other  children 
trooped  out  to  enjoy  their  lunch  and  games  under 
the  trees,  she  remained  at  her  desk  swallowing  her 
bread  and  butter  and  a  few  tears  at  the  same  time. 

As  the  hour  for  final  closing  drew  near  she 
thought,  with  an  intensity  of  pain  which  only 
a  child's  uncalloused  heart  can  feel,  if  she  could 
only  in  some  way  escape  the  prying  eyes  of 
the  whole  school,  how  happy  she  would  be. 
Those  wretched  patches  on  the  little  boots  that 
no  amount  of  blacking  would  conceal  were  the  most 
trying  things  to  bear.  At  last  the  dreadful  moment 
came  when  she  had  to  take  her  phice  with  the  rest 
and  march  out  of  the  school-room.  Once  outside, 
her  agony  was  intensified;  for  the  girls  stood  in 
groups  apparently  waiting  for  her. 


FIRST  DAT  AT  aCBOOL. 


9 


19  to 
d    in 
jmely 
othes, 
3oame 
8  she 
nates, 
fter  a 
issons, 
But 
ildren 
under 
Dgher 
ime. 
r    she 
only 
could 
res    of 
d    be. 
»  that 
VQ  most 
(lonient 
tie  rest 
)ut8ide, 
»od  in 


■ 


I 


"I  wonder  if  her  mother  is  a  washerwoman?" 
"Let's  count  the  patches  on  her  boots."  "The  impu- 
dence of  such  people  sending  their  children  here," 
were  some  of  the  remarks  that  greeted  her.    She 
scarce  knew  if  she  were  walking  or  standing  still; 
and  while  she  tried  to  hurry,  why  was  it  that  she 
heard  so  much?    Would  the  gate  never  be  reached ? 
A  cloud  gathered  over  her  eyes  and  she  felt  herself 
swaying,  when  a  gracious  voice  caUed  back    her 
dazed  senses,  and  she  saw  one  of  the  larger  boys  at 
her  side,  while  he  said :  "You  look  tired,  Uttle  one; 
let  me  take  your  satchel."    She  glanced  up  into  his 
face,  and  the  lad  was  startled  at  the  grieved,  haunted 
expression  of  the  child's  face. 

"You  must  not  mind  what  those  silly  girls  say; 
they  generally  treat  new-comers  shabbily. " 
"But  it  is  my  clothes,  and  not  myself  that  they 

are  angry  about. " 

"Well,  so  much  the  better ;  your  clothes  are  not 

■ 

really  you. " 

« I  know  that ;  but  I  cannot  get  any  othere  for  a 
long  while ;  and  I  must  come  to  school,  for  my 
mother  has  paid  for  me." 

♦'  Who  is  your  mother  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Kent,  on  Mulberry  street." 

«  Does  she  aarn  her  own  living?  "  *     „ 


|5| 


'S 


I  K  - 


f 


.■^mm 


10 


MILDRED  KEST'a  BERO. 


"Yes,  she  is  a  dressmaker  now.    I  took  care  of 
Paul  and  Grace  while  she  was  learning.    Our  father 

is  dead." 

"You  have  been  to  school  before  — have  you 

not?"  ■  ^  ^ 

"No,  never  until  to<lay.    I  thought  I  should  be 

so  happy."    A  little  sob  escaped  the  brave  lips  so 

used  to  shutting  ii  their  pain. 

"I  do  not  think  they  will  say  any  more  rude 

things  to  you  after  I  shaU  have  given  them  a  piece 

of  my  mind." 

Mildred  gave  him  such  a  look  of  gratitude  that 
the  lad  felt  something  like  a  lump  coming  into  his 
own  throat.  Then  her  face  grew  sad  again.  "  Will 
they  mind  what  you  say  ?" 

«  Well,  yes,  they  always  do  when  I  get  in  earnest. 
I  don't  usually  have  much  to  say  to  them." 

Again  she  looked  at  him  with  a  scrutinizing  air, 
not  quite  so  agreeable  as  her  former  admiring  re- 

"  I  suppose  it  is  because  you  are  so  krge  and  — 
she  paused  a  few  seconds  and  then  added,  —  "so 
good-looking." 

He  flushed,  but  said  with  a  smUe:  "It  is  be- 
cause they  Uke  to  have  us  notice  them,  my  mother 
audi.    They  hope  to  get  invited  to  Grassmere." 


n 
tl 

t« 
fi 

f 

8 

i 


>e  of 
ither 

you 

dbe 

[>8  SO 

rude 
piece 

I  that 
)o  his 
'Will 

rnest. 

ig  air, 
Qg  re- 
ad"— 
-  "so 

is  be- 
nothet 


rnar  dat  at  school. 

"You  are  one  of  those. good  people  such  as  I  have 
read  about  in  stories,  who  do  brave  things  and  take 
the  part  of  the  poor  and  weak." 

Her  look  of  admiration  deepened  into  one  of  awe ; 
to  come  in  direct  contact  with  one  of  those  beauti- 
ful beings  out  of  a  story-book  thrilled  the  child's 
imaginative  soul. 

♦'  What  a  queer  little  kitten  you  are  ! "  The  boy's 
face  flushed  more  deeply.  He  did  not  enjoy  quite 
BO  much  hero  worship,  and  turned  her  remark  jest- 
ingly. 

"I  expect  I  am,"  she  said  with  such  a  pathetic 
little  nod  that  he  grew  more  uncomfortable  still. 

"1  must  leave  you  now,"  he  said  abruptly.    They 
had  got  on  to  another  street,  and  the  other  school- 
children had  drifted  pretty  well  out  of  sight.    He 
gave  back  her  satchel,  saying:  "Don't  come  quite  so 
early  to  school  to-morrow.    And  you  need  not  give 
yourself  any  more  anxiety  about  those  girls;  they 
will  any  of  them  be  glad  to  make  friends  with  you." 
She  looked  wistfully  at  him  with  much  the  same 
expression  in  her  eyes  as  he  had  sometimes  seen  in 
the  fiice  of  his  own  beautiful  spaniel  when  he  had 
felt  it  incumbent  on  him  to  punish  her  for  some  im- 
aginary fault.  ^ 


). 


mmmmmmm 


01 


Ul 


CHAPTER  n. 


BBTH  AND  CONNIE. 


ILDRED  walked  home  slowly,  and  in  her 
childish   way  reasoned   the   matter   oat 
^         She  concluded  it  would  only  grieve  her 
mother  to  know  that  the  school-mates  were  mostly 
hostile,  and  she  had  cares  enough  already  without 
any  additional  ones.    «I  will  tell  her  the  lessons 
were  just  lovely,  and  may  be  she  won't  ask  any 
more  questions."    After  she  had  decided  on  this 
course,    she    walked    along    more    cheerfully;    for 
one  added  drop  of  bitterness  would  be  the  pain 
her  mother  would  feel  over  her  treatment  by  the 
school-mates.    The  chUdren  were  still  at  the  gate 
watching  for  her. 


curiously. 
"Oh,  no,  we  had  our  dinnew  in  the  house. 

us  all  about  it." 

"I  have  not  much  to  tell.    It  is  just  a  lot  of  boys 
and  girls ;  and  they  read  and  study  and  pUy." 

"  Did  you  play  ?  "  Paul  asked  eagerly. 

"No,  but  maybe  I  will  some  day." 

« I  would  play  every  day,"  Paul  said  with  much 

assurance. 

The  mother  came  to  the  door  to  meet  her.    «  Did 
you   have  a  happy  day  at  school,  Mildred?"  she 

asked.  .    *  .* 

«  The  lessons  were  lovely.    It  is  so  nice  to  just  sit 

stUl  and  study  with  no  one  talking  around  you." 
«  Like  me  and  Grace,"  Paul  interjected. 
The  mother  noticed  the  pale  face  and  sorrowful 
expression,  and  guessed  that  aU  the  experiences  had 
not  been  aUke  lovely  with  the  lessons. 

"You  may  play  a  v^hile  with  the  ohUdren,"  she 
said,  returning  again  to  her  work,  a  good  deal 
heavier  hearted  than  she  had  been  during  the  day. 
MUdred  took  very  Uttle  supper,  and  her  mother  dis- 
covered that  her  lunch  had  soarc-ly  been  touched. 
Now  that  it  was  too  late  she  regretted  having  sent 
her  chUd  to  such  a  school    The  careless  goodSumor 


I 


MILDRED    KENT'B   HERO. 


U 

and  comradeBhip  of  a  public  school  might  in  the  end 
have  been  the  best.    However,  she  resolved  to  let 
MUdred  try  one  day  more.    Children's  hearts  are  not 
so  brittle  as  to  break  at  a  little  hard  usage,  and  pos- 
sibly it  might  be  the  best  training  for  her,  since  she 
must  soon  or  late  fight  the  battle  that  every  bread- 
winner must  face.    The  next  morning  MUdred  was 
in  no  hurry  to  start  for  school,  and  then  loitered 
along  the  way,  barely  escaping  a  tardy  mark.    When 
the  luncheon  bell  rang,  the  very  girl  whose  sharp 
tongue  had  given  her  the  first  stab  came  to  her  side 
and  said  graciously :  — 

♦♦  We  take  our  lunch  under  the  trees.  You  can  eat 
yours  with  the  rest  of  us,  and  then  join  with  us  in 

our  games." 

"I  think  I  would  rather  stay  here,"  Mildred  fal- 
tered. It  was  nearly  as  trying  to  go  right  in  among 
them  as  to  stand  outside  and  listen  to  their  criti- 
cisms. 

"  Very  well,  you  can  suit  yourselt" 

A  moment  after  Mildred  heard  her  tell  the  lad 
who  had  come  to  her  rescue  the  day  before  that  she 
had  invited  her  to  join  them. 

"  She  won't  come  with  us;  I  believe  she  is  a  sulky 
Uttle  thing." 


w 

St 

si 

ii 
c 

a 
e 

t 

a 


wmmm 


the  end 
d  to  let 
s  are  not 
and  pos- 
iince  she 
ly  bread- 
ired  was 
luitered 
.  When 
>se  sharp 
>  her  side 

>u  can  eat 
ith  us  in 

Idred  fal- 
in  among 
heir  criti- 


ill  the  lad 
)  that  she 

is  a  sulky 


"  She  would  be  an  angel  to  be  friends  immediately 
with  your  crowd,"  was  the  low  spoken  answer, 
sternly  uttered. 

"  Well,  you  can't  blame  me,  I  L-ve  done  my  best," 
she  said,  defensively. 

"  And  your  worst  too."  They  passed  out  of  hear- 
ing, and  Madred  nibbled  her  bread  and  butter  and 
conned  her  lessons  over  again. 

The  moments  were  dragging  on  heavily,  the  day 
already  seemed  as  long  as  a  week  at  home ;  but  pres- 
ently her  pulses  were  set  beating  tumultuously  as 
two  of  her  schoolmates  seated  themselves  besida  her 
and  opened  up  a  conversation. 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?  "  was  the  first  question. 
"  No.  6  Mulberry  Street." 
•♦  What  does  your  father  do  ?  " 
'♦  He  is  dead  "  was  the  reply,  spoken  solemnly. 
"What?" 

«  He  is  dead,  Anna ;  don't  ask  any  more  about 
him,"  one  of  them  said.  ' 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  moments ;  even  these 
worldly  damsels  were  a  trifle  awed  at  mention  of 
the  dead. 
"Well,  ^ho  earns  your  living?"  was  the  next 

question.  '^ 

"My  mother  gets  a  good  deal  of  money  making 


^  MILDRED  KKNT'a  HEM. 

ir^  .nd  n.y  gr-a-ther  «nd.  the  r»t  Iron. 

England."  .i.„^?" 

uOh,  then  you  have  a  grandmother?^ 
«  Why,  don't  everybody  have  one?  . 

.WeU     no;    not    grandmotherB    wUh    money, 

your  case  is  not  .njte  so  ^;^  ^J^^^^^^^^ 
uDo  you  always  have  plenty  to  eat  r 

^m^->  fee  .ri-ned,  and  «.en  .h.  »bbed 
ouXing  let  W«»co.»ol=  "You.™  dread. 

""'xhere    ««   »   -"dden  interruption   «hich   P«- 
«nt«d  farther  conversation  from  them. 

..See  her^yougirl.iifIe»'»^7■^_;''- 
work  again  yoa  may  expect  an  .,vv.t.t.on  U, 
Bnaton  ioat  as  much  as  to  Grassmere. 

"oh.  C.  U  Douglass.    I  thought  you  were  down 
the  sLc  one  o.  Mildred's  u,rmentors  e«l.m«l 

"tSt  is  how  you  e«ne  to  torment  tlu.  |»or 

.Wld     Now  if  I  h«i'  »»°*"  ""^  '"'"  "^      ! 

■;„„  riall  make  complaint  ^  my  mother,  and 

1  wUl  do  the  same  to  tho  Princpal   and  Aat 

•.  ,m  leave  thU  school  directly.    My  mother 

'"iCavCt  stock-holder  her^  and  she  will  not 
,s  the  heaviest  s  ^  ^ 

maintain  an    instituUon    inai   v 


BETB  ASD  CONNIE. 


17 


kt  from 


money  ; 
jted." 
the  othor 

B  sobbed 
re  dread- 

hich    pre- 

a.  at   ibis 
tatiou    to 

were  down 
exclaimed 

this  poor 
m  any  one 
aother,  and 
I,  and  that 
My  mother 
jhe  will  not 

cruelty  to 


children."  He  seemed  no  longer  a  lad,  but  a 
man,  with  all  a  man's  strength  and  passion  at 
sight  of  wrong  and  oppression.  The  girls  went 
out  quickly  and  much  more  humbly  than  they  en- 
tered.   Douglass  turned  to  Mildred. 

"I  have  been  listening  out  there,  and  I  thought 
they  had  gone  far  enough.  Never  answer  any  of 
th?ir  questions."  He  turned  and  walked  out,  but 
presently  coming  back,  said : 

"You  must  not  stay  all  day  in  this  close  school- 
room.    Come  out  with  me." 

She  arose  obediently.  Very  probably  if  he  had 
ordered  her  to  go  around  and  shake  hands  with  aU 
the  schoolchildren,  or  any  other  trying  ordeal  with- 
in reach  of  her  powers,  she  would  have  done  as  com- 
manded. 

"  Why  do  you  take  my  part?  "  she  asked,  as  they 
stood  in  the  doorway  surveying  the  merry  groups 
scattered  over  the  playground. 

*♦  I  do  not  like  to  be  questioned.  Besides  it  is  not 
polite  to  ask  questions.  Now  look  over  there  by  the 
fence;  there  are  two  little  girls  smaller  than  you 
are.  I  have  been  looking  around  for  playfellows  for 
you,  and  I  have  concluded  they  are  as  good  as  we 
can  find  in  this  crowd."  _ 


li 


MtiDnrn  kf.nt'b  nr.M, 
Mildred  followed  wlontly,  not  daring  to  upeak  lest 
her  conversation  might  end  in  a  question. 

"See  here,  Beth  and  Connie,  you  are  to  play  with 
Mildred  Kent,"  Douglaw  said  authoritatively,  when 
he  reached  them.  "  If  you  get  on  well  and  she  tells 
me  on  Friday  night  that  you  have  been  kind,  you 
shall  come  to  Grassmere  on  Saturday  and  shall  have 
swings  and  a  sail  on  the  lake."  ^     . 

"  Oh,  we  will  be  as  good  as  possible  to  her,  they 
responded  joyfully,  shabby  dress  and  patched  boots 
quite  forgotten  for  the  time.  He  left  them  then, 
Mildred's  eyes  following  him  wistfully;  then  she 
turned  to  her  companions  who  scarce  knew  how  to 
make  advances  lest  they  might  forfeit  the  reward. 

"What  makes  him  so  good  to  me?"  In  her  eager- 
ness to  solve  the  mystery  she  forgot  that  he  had  just 
told  her  questions  were  not  polite. 

«  He  always  takes  the  side  of  lame  dog»  and  poor 
kittens  and  things,"  Connie  replied,  half  frightened 
at  her  answer  as  soon  as  it  was  spoken. 

«But  Mildred  is  not  dogs  and  kittens."  Beth  said, 
reprovingly.  "You  are  a  very  thoughtless  httle 
girl,  Connie ;  if  you  say  such  things  we  won't  get  to 
Grassmere  and  have  the  boat^ail.  Just  think  how 
we  have  wanted  to  go  there  ever  so  long,  and  our 
mothers  want  to  go,  too." 


% 


"Never  mind,  Beth;  I  know  what  Connie  meant, 
and  I  won't  Iteep  you  from  Graaemere." 

"  Are  n't  you  coming  too  ?"  Connie  asked. 

"I  do  not  think  he  invited  me,  and  anyw.iy  I 
have  no  good  oiothei. 

"  Are  you  very  poor  ?  " 

"  I  expect  80.     I  never  thought  about  tt  till  yet- 

terday." 

"We  are  all  rich  people  who  come  to  this  school; 
that  iB  why  the  girls  ara  so  cross  with  you,"  Connie 
remarked  complacently. 

"  Connie  D.  Smythe,  if  you  do  not  hush  I  am  sure 
Mildred  will  tell  Douglass  how  you  talk.  I  would, 
I  know,  if  I  was  in  her  place." 

"I  don't  care,"  Connie  said  recklessly.  "What 
can  we  talk  about,  anyway." 

"I  will  tell  you  stories  about  the  children  and 
their  dolls,  Ermengarde  and  Luoinda,"  Mildred  sug- 

sted. 

"Very  well,"  Beth  responded,  with  an  air  of  res- 
ignation. 

"Why  can't  we  play  tag,"  Connie  asked.  "We 
were  playing  that  when  ydu  and  Douglass  came 


"  I  would  rather  do  that  than  tell  stories.'     ^ 


w 


so 


MILDftED  KENT'S  HERO. 

alV  Btories  ?  "  Beth  asked  with 


"Can  you   really  tel 
awakening  interest. 

"  I  make  a  great  many  for  the  children." 

"We  will  let  you  make  them  for  us  wet  days  when 
we  can't  play  out  here,"  Connie  said  graciously. 

Mildred's  laugh  was  ringing  out  quite  joyously 
when  the  bell  rang,  and  her  satisfaction  was  not 
lessened  as  she  overheard  Beth  and  Connie  talking 

to  themselves. 

"She  is  a  grand  girl  to  play  with,  she  lets  you 
cheat  her  so  well,"  Connie  said  with  considerable 

elation. 

"Yes,  and  if  she  is  poor,  she  is  far  nicer  than 
some  of  the  very  richest  girls,  lor  she  don't  expect 
you  to  do  as  she  says  all  the  time.  For  my  part  I 
am  beginning  to  like  poor  people  the  best,"  Beth 
responded,  with  a  good  deal  of  decision. 

The  afternoon  sped  by  very  quickly  ta  Mildred. 
At  the  school-room  door  her  new  friends  were  wait, 
ingforher;  with  one  on  either  side  she  got  on  to 
the  street  very  comfortably.  ^^ 

"Maybe  we  will  come  and  see  you  some  day, 
Connie  remarked  graciously. 

"Some  rainy  afternoon,  and  you    can    tell    us 
stories,"  Beth  suggested. 

"A  fine  day  would  be  nicer,  we  could  sit  in  our 


pi 
th 
th 
tl 
ai 

di 

n 

t1 
h 

V 

li 
i 

I 
1 


OB 


wmtgmmmt 


rrrr"'-'''*'"'*'™^''''" 


BETS  AND  CONlfIX, 


81 


i  with 


s  when 

ly- 

jyously 
as  not 
talking 

sts  you  ■ 
derable 

er  than 

expect 

f  part  I 

,"   Beth 

Mildred, 
jre  wait- 
>t  on  to 


pUyhouse.  I  make  believe  a  great  many  things 
there  with  the  children.  I  have  been  their  mother 
this  long  time,  and  my  husband's  at  sea;  they  like 
that  far  better  than  to  have  him  away  among  the 
angels, «-  that  seems  so  lonesome." 

"Do  you  really  make  beUeve  the  same  thing  for 

days  and  days?" 

•♦Yes,  the  children  talk  about  their  sailor  father 
now  more  than  their  real  one.  He  is  going  to  bring 
them  lots  of  things  some  day;  that's  what  I  made 

him  for." 

Mildred  spoke  with  the  matronly  dignity  of  a 
veritable  wife.  With  her  new  friends  such  a  ming- 
Ung  of  the  real  and  the  ideal  was  extremely  fascinat- 
ing. 

"Connie,  let  us  plan  to  go  the  Saturday  after 
next;  we  will  stay  to  tea  and  bring  our  lunch-bas- . 
kets  full  of  cake  and  things.    Her  mother  won't 
mind  the  bother  of  us  then." 

"  Are  you  sisters  ?  "  Bfildred  asked. 

"No,  but  we  Uve  on  the  same  street.  We'll  be 
make-believe  sisters,"  Connie  shouted  enthusiastic- 

"  Will  your  mothers  let  you  come  ?  " 

«  They  won't  know  anything  about  it.  They^  are 
always  making  calls  or  receiving.  Anyway,  I  guess 
we  are  mostly  in  their  way  out  of  school." 


M 


i 


89 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


«  But  it  won't  be  right  to  bring  your  tea  with  you 
unless  you  ask  leave." 

"You  silly  child,  cook  gives  us  things  whenever 
we  want  them.  She  is  glad  to  get  rid  of  us,  too. 
We  seem  in  'most  everybody's  way." 

"Then  in  some  things  you  are  poorer  than  I  am. 
I  never  remember  being  in  my  mother's  way,"  MU- 
dred  said,  with  a  good  deal  of  sympathy. 

i'  Oh  well,  folks  don't  mind  being  poo  unless  they 
are  short  of  money.  They  don't  reckon  anything 
else  poverty,"  Connie  said,  as  if  she  were  perfectly 
well  versed  in  such  limitations. 

«I  had  rather  be  short  of  money  than  of  mother's 
love.  It's  just  beautiful  to  be  with  my  mother. 
Why  I  have  shed  cupfuls  of  tears  thinking  if  she 

were  to  die." 

«I  don't  think  we  could  shed  a  cupful  between 
us,  Beth,  do  you,  if  our  mothers  were  both  dead?" 
Connie  asked  with  all  seriousness. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  have  never  lost  any  tears  think- 
ing  about  it,"  Beth  said  indifferently. 

They  said  good  bye,  and  Mildred  walked  home- 
ward with  a  good  many  thoughts  yeasting  in  her 
brain. 


ii  you 

never 
I,  too. 

I  atn. 
"  MU- 

is  they 
ything 
rfectly 

other's 

aother. 

if  she 

etween 
lead?" 


think- 


l  home- 
in  her 


A  GARDEN  TBA-PABTY. 

aOUGLASS  saya  you  are  to  come  to  Graasmere 
with  m  on  Saturday."      Theae  we  the 
first  words  that    greeted    MUdred  the    next 

day.  ., 

«  But  this  is  my  best  frock,  and  I  have  no  other 

shoes."    Sho  stooped  over  and  gazed  at  her  patched 

boots  with  a  pitiful  intentness. 

"Can'tyou  buy  better  ones?    There  are  lots  m 

the  stores,"  CJonnie  asked. 

"I  am  afraid  we  have  no  money  to  spare  just  now. 
But  never  mind;  you  can  tell  me  all  about  it  when 
you  come  to  see  me ;  it  will  make  that  mucb  more 
to  talk  about,"  she  said,  quite  cheerfully. 

u  But  Grassmere  is  so  lovely,  and  Douglass  has 


■ ;  S«'VIWHPWr?T'W«P«»FW>  ■  ■ 


24 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


such  lota  of  beautiful  things  to  show  us ;  besides 
there  is  the  sail  on  the  lake,"  Beth  said. 

Mildred  winked  very  bravely,  but  a  few  tear-drops 
fell  in  spite  of  her  efforts  to  keep  thera  back, 

"You  will  tell  me  all  about  it,"  she  said  presently. 
»*  Cnly  yesterday  I  did  not  kndw  there  was  such  a 
place,  and  I  won't  be  a  baby  about  it." 

"If  Douglass  says  it  don't  make  any  difference 
about  your  boots,  will  you  come?"  Connie  asked 

doubtfully. 

"Why  yes,  when  there  are  so  many  pretty  things, 
maybe  they  would  never  notice  my  boots,  and  I  can 
put  on  a  great  deal  of  blacking.  The  patches  don't 
show  very  badly."  She  twisted  the  little  feet 
around  while  the  children  stood  regarding  them 
with  troubled  eyes. 

"His  mother  is  a  real  lady;  everybody  likes  to 
have  her  notice  them,"  Connie  remarked  encourag- 
ingly. 

"  But  we  would  only  see  Douglass,"  Mildred  said 

with  evident  alarm. 

"Oh,  an  invitation  from  Douglass  means  dinner 
and  everything.  Sometimes  you  meet  real  live  lords 
and  their  wives  there.  I  tell  you  we  ought  to  like 
you,  for  it  is  not  often  he  asks  any  of  the  school- 
children out  there." 


E 


Biitly. 
ach  a 

irence 
asked 

hings, 
I  can 
don't 

)  feet 
them 

kes  to 
lourag- 

d  said 

dinner 
e  lords 
to  like 
Bohool- 


A  OAtlDKN  TBA-PAKTT. 


25 


«  Let  us  play  something,"  Mildred  suggested.  She 
had  a  healthy  mind,  and  was  not  given  to  brooding 
over  the  unattainable.  Their  merry  voices  were 
soon  ringing  out  over  the  play-ground,  while  some 
of  the  other  girls  joined  them.  Probably  the  fact 
that  Mildred  had  become  the  protSgSe  of  Douglass 
Everett  influenced  them. 

Connie  did  not  wait  long  for  an  opportunity  to 
interview  Douglass  respecting  Mildred's  visit  to 
Grassmere  and  the  limitations  under  which  she  was 
placed  respecting  the  matter  of  holiday  attire. 

"She  can  wear  what  she  pleases;  we  do  not  criti- 
cize the  clothes  our  guests  may  wear.  You  little 
girls  are  sillier  than  I  thought  to  make  such  a  fuss 
about  what  you  wear." 

*'It  was  Mildred  spoke  about  it  herself,"  Connie 
said,  with  considerable  trepidation.  After  school 
she  and  Beth  went  home  with  Mildred. 

"We  have  plenty  of  time,  and  we  can  just  as  well 
be  talking  over  our  visit  as  not."  Connie  placidly 
remarked.  "  And  besides,  we  can  see  those  children; 
maybe  I  will  adopt  them,  too,  as  well  as  Beth." 

"Let  us  buy  them  something,"  Beth  suggested. 
"We  can  get  it  on  credit  and  pay  to-morrow;  papa 
always  givea  me  money  to  pay  my  debts.^^  He^ys 
it  is  not  nice  for  Uttle  girls  to  owe  money." 


h 


26 


MILDRED  KSNT'B  HERO. 


a. 


« I  would  rather  you  would  not  go  in  debt  now," 
Mildred  urged. 

«0h,  he  will  say  I  am  an  excellent  girl  when  I 
explain  to  him.  Hike  him  the  best  of  any  one  in 
the  world."  Beth  was  in  a  most  uplifted  frame  of 
mind.  The  performing  of  an  unselfish  act  was  such  a 
new  experience  she  scarcely  knew  what  was  the  mat- 
ter with  her.  They  went  to  the  store,  where  they 
were  well  known,  and  Connie,  not  to  be  outdone  by 
Beth,  resolved  to  be  generous  too. 

"What  would  they  like?"  Beth  asked  Mildred, 
who  was  surveying  the  array  of  toys  with  a  beating 

heart. 

"Oh,  anything  here  would  be  nice." 

A  shop  giri  came  forward.  "How  much  money 
will  you  spend?" 

"Twenty-five  cents;  we  will  both  spend  that 
much."  Connie  sighed  plaintively;  that  much 
money  would  buy  a  good  many  caramels. 

Beth  was  the  spokeswoman.  "  We  want  to  lay 
out  fifty  cents  for  two  poor  children ;  won't  you 
please  to  help  us  choose  something?" 

"Do  you  want  toys  or  something   useful?"  the 

girl  asked. 

"We  might  get  something  that  would  work 
both  ways,"  Beth  suggested,  as  a  sensible  way  out 
of  the  difficulty  of  making  choice. 


A  OABDEN  TEA-PARTT. 


27 


They  decided  at  last  on  a  tin  trumpet  for  Paul 
and  Noah's  ark  and  doll  for  Grace.     It  was  aston- 
ishing what  a  short  way  the   fifty   cents  reached 
in  making  purchases.    An  hour  later,  after  a  very 
agreeable   call  at  No.    6   Mulberry  Street,    Beth 
and  Connie  on  the  journey  home  decided  they  had 
never  got  so  much  satisfaction  out   of  twenty-five 
cents  in  their  Uves.    The  delight  of  the  two  chil- 
dren at  their  presents,  and   the  diligent  use  Paul 
made  of  his,  though  rather   distressing  when   he 
chanced  to  be   too  near,  was  very  enUvening,  es- 
pecially when  they  saw  the   commotion  it  created 
among    householders  in   the  neighborhood.    They 
found  the  sumrnef   house   a  charming  playhouse, 
the  honeysuckle  and  climbing  roses  making  it  cool 
and  fragrant.    The  only  drawback  to  their  pleasure 
was  the  presence  of  an  occasional  beetle  or  spider; 
but  Mildred  had  a  thrifty  habit  of  turning  every- 
thing to  good  account,  so    they  soon  learned,  as 
Paul  and   Grace  had  done,  to  look  upon  them  as 
tramps  to  be  got  rid  of  as  quietiy  as  possible.    Mil- 
dred slipped  into  the  house  just  before  they  left, 
and  soon  returned  with  a  plate  full  of  thin  slices 
of  home-made  bread  and  butter.    The  pleasant  sur- 
prise,  combined  with  their  hunger,  made  it  jeem 
to  the  children  a  very  delicious  luncheon. 


Mliia 


m  ' 


28  MILDRED  KSNT'B  HERO. 

"I  wish  we  could  come  here  everyday,"  Connie 
remarked  with  a  gigh  as  the  last  sUoe  of  hread  disap- 
peared. 

"If  it  wasn't  for  papa,  I  wish  we  were  your  moth- 
er's children,"  Beth  said  wistfully.  «  She's  so  kind  to 
you  and  smiles,  and  she  really  seemed  pleased  to  see 
us."  The  latter  was  a  marvellous  circumstance  to 
the  child,  whose  experience  of  mothers  was  that 
they  looked  on  children  as  perpetually  in  the  way. 

After  they  were  gone,  Mildred  began  to  tell  all 
the  happy  things  that  had  befallen  her  that  day. 
Unfortunately,  however,  as  she  told  of  the  sudden 
friendliness  of  her  visitors,  the  fact  of  their  friend- 
ship being  in  the  first  place  a  purchased  affair  was 

revealed. 

She  concluded  the  day's  experiences  at  hist  by 
saying:  "  May  I  go  to  Grassmere  on  Saturday  with 

them?" 

"  Will  you  be  wilUng  to  wear  your  patched  shoes 

and  plain  frock  and  hat?" 

i'But  Douglass  said  they  did  not  criticize  the 
clothes  their  visitoi's  had  on." 

"Probably  his  mother  never  entertained  such  a 
poorly  dressed  visitor  as  you  will  be.  But  she  is  a 
genuine  lady,  and  will  make  everyone  about  her  feel 
comfortable,  no  matter  what  they  may  wear." 


A  OARDEM  TEA-PABTT. 


S9 


*♦  Were  you  ever  &  lady,  mamma  '" 

"Never  any  more  than  I  am  at  present.  I  have 
heen  much  richer,  hut  that  does  not  alter  one's  char- 
acter.    But  why  do  you  ask  such  a  question  ?  " 

"Some  of  the  girls  were  talking  about  you,  how 
we  got  our  money,  and  what  you  did  for  a  living.  I 
told  them  that  our  grandmother  sent  us  some  money 
from  England,  and  that  you  earned  the  rest.  They 
said  some  folks  were  so  poor  they  did  not  even  have 
a  grandmother. 

"Probably  they  sprang  originally  from  such  un- 
fortunates  themselves.  But  it  is  not  wise  for  httle 
girls  to  get  ideas  about  wealth  or  ancestry  mto  their 
heads  Some  of  our  noblest  men  and  women  sprang 
from  humble  parentage;  and  some  of  the  poorest 
specimens  came  from  old  families,  proud  of  their  an- 

cestry.     A  poet  has  said :  — 

« Here  and  there  a  cotter's  babe  u  bom  by  right  dWne ; 

H.«  a^d  t^  my  lord  i.  l«w.r  than  his  oxen  or  h»  swuie. 
Young  persons  should,  endeavor  to  buUd  for  them- 

selves,  rather  than  depend  on  ancestors  long  gone 

to  dust,  for  their  greatness." 

"I  think  that  is  as  much  sb  I  can   remember  to- 

night,  mamma,"  MUdred  said,  with  a  fatigued  expres- 
sion that  provoked  a  smile  from  the  mother,  who  was 

not  given  to  preaching. 


80 


MtLDKF.D    KFST'8    IIKRO. 


"And  may  I  think  about  going  to  Grasamere  on 
Saturday?  This  is  only  Tuesday,  and  I  shall  have 
such  a  lot  of  pleasure  thinking  about  it." 

"On  condition  you  wear  those  boots.  I  may  get 
a  more  suitable  dress.      Muslins  are  very  cheap 

now." 

♦'  I  wish  you  could  make  boots,  too." 

"Just  be  patient,  darling.  If  I  can  only  prove 
myself  an  artist  in  making  prettily  draped  and  fit. 
ting  gowns,  it  will  be  better  than  shoe- making." 

"I  thought  it  was  only  folks  who  painted  pictures 
were  artists.     I  want  to  be  one  when  I  am  a  woman 

grown."  J.      rx 

"Everyone  who  excels  in  her  especial  handicraft 

has  a  right  to  the  title,  I  believe;  besides,  painting 

pictures  is  not  the  most  useful  caUing  in  the  world." 

"But  if  I  painted  a  grand  picture  which  would 
make  people  glad  ages  after  I  was.  dead,  that 
would  be  better  than  making  frocks  that  would 
get  worn  out  and  be  forgotten." 

«  Yes,  better  for  you,  my  chUd,  if  it  brought  you 
bread  as  well  as  fame.  But  you  are  too  young 
yet  to  discuss  these  things.  You  have  been  too 
much  alone  with  books  and  your  own  thoughts. 
A  child's  soul  may  too  soon  get  awakened." 

"Well,  I  mean  to  try  and  paint  my  picture 
when  I  am  a  woman." 


% 


A    OAHDEir    TEA-PARTT. 


81 


«  You  need  not  wait  bo  long  to  do  some  notable 
work.     Even  children  paint  pictures  that  laat  for 

eternity." 

"How,  mamma?"  ehe  asked,  amazed. 

"  By  being  pure  and  unselfish  and  diligent." 

"But  where  will  the  pictures  be?    Have  I  made 

any  yet?" 

«0n  memory's  wall,  to  be  reproduced  one  day 
in  wonderful  vividness.  I  have  found  my  daugh- 
ter a  help  as  well  as  comfort ;  that  is  a  picture 
better  than  a  good  many  that  hang  in  the  Pans 
Salon.  What  could  I  have  done  with  the  ohd- 
dren  this  past  year  but  for  you?" 

"But  I  couldn't  do  anything  else  but  care  for 
them.  They  had  to  be  amused,  or  Paul  would 
have  gone  with  the  boys  on  the  steeet." 
"And  you  could  have  gone  too." 
«Not  when  you  told  me  not  to,"  she  said,  as  if 
disobedience  to  a  mother's  command  was  an  act 
never  perpetrated  in  this  lapsed  world. 

It  had  been  such  an  eventful  day  Mildred 
found  sleep  an  exceedingly  coy  visitor,  and  she 
lay  awake  a  long,  long  time  for  her,  thinking 
what  a  very  different  world,  on  the  whole,  it  was 
from  what  she  had  hitherto  imagined,  and  what 
different  kinds  of  boys  and  girls  there  were ;  mean- 


oharao- 
and  did 
Itiplied. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


GIFTB. 

AKEFUL  evenings  make  sleepy  mornings 
UBuaUy  for   children,   and  Mildred  was 
^  very  sleepy  indeed  when  she  heard  her 

mother's  tap  on  the  door.    She  sprang  out  of  bed 
in  a  da^ed  sort  of  way,  and  hurried,  I  am  sorry 
to  say,  with  her  prayers  as  weU  as  dressing.    She 
took  the   pitcher  and  started,  as  was  her  custom, 
for  the  day's  supply  of  mUk,  which  tJiey  got  at 
the  comer  grocery;  but  when  she  opened  the  front 
door  on  her  way  out  a  ciy  of  surprise  brou^t 
them  all  out  to  see  what  >.»-  the  matter.    The 
pitcher  was  lying  on  it»  side  and  MUdred  was  stend- 
L  beside  it  in  the  Uttle  portico  that  was  seldom 
looked  at  night.    In  her  handt^  were  two  Tlrown 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

paper  parcels,  and  through  a  rent  in  one  she  was 

peering  excitedly  at  the   toe  of  a  pretty  kid  boot. 

♦'Just  look  here,  mamma.    Who  can  these  boots 

be  for?" 

"Perhaps  Santa  Clans  brought  tl.em  for  me;  I 
have  been  a  very  good  boy  lately,"  Paul  said,  step- 
ping around,  quite  as  excited  as  Mildred.  Mre. 
Kent  took  the  parcels,  first  unrolling  the  boots. 

"  They  are  for  Mildred.  Here  is  her  name  writ- 
ten on  the  sole,  and  an  excellent  pair  of  kid  boots 

they  are." 

"Maybe  the  other  parcel  is  for  me,"  Paul  said, 
with  decreasing  hopefulness. 

Mildred  was  now  trying  on  the  boots,— such  a 
pair  it  had  never  been  h<!r  lot  to  stip  around  the 
green  earth  in  before. 

"O,  myl  what  is  it'"  Paul  exclaimed  as,  the 
paper  removed,  the  folds  cf  an  exquinitely  fine  piece 
of  merino  that  exactly  matehed  MUdt-ed's  eyes  was 
revealed.  "And  this  is  /.  dress  for  Mildred,  the 
card  here  says.  These  little  girls  have  been  most 
generous  in  their  purchases  out  we  must  pay  them 
seme  day,"  tlie  mother  ec  d  decidedly.  Mildred 
stroked  it  lovingly  and  then  umed  resolutely  away; 
the  milk  must  be  got  and  t\  o  breakfast  eaten  just 


rmm 


she  was 
id  boot, 
se  boots 

r  me;  I 
aid,  8tep- 
i.  Mre. 
boots, 
ime  writ- 
kid  boots 

•aul  said, 

— such  a 
ound   the 

1  as,   the 

fine  piece 

eyes  was 

Idred,  the 

been  most 

pay  them 

Mildred 

:ely  away ; 

eaten  just 


OIFTB.  "• 

the  same  as  on  other  days;  but  she  started  out  en 
her  errand  one  of  the  happiest  chUdren  in  the 
huge  city.  It  was  just  like  a  fairy  story ;  only  she 
hoped  Beth  and  Comne  had  not  gone  mto  debt  for 

'**Breakfast  over,  she  started  for  school,  she  was  in 
such  haste  to  thank  her  schoolmates  for  their  gift. 
She  was  early  and  had  some  time  to  wait;  but  at 
^t  she  saw  them  and  hastened  to  tell  thc^  vhat 
she  had  found  at  the  door,  and  thanked  them  for 

'**«But   we  did  not  put  it  there,"     Connie  said 
emphatically.    "We  new  could    give  diat  much. 
It  was  hard  work  to  get  the   twenty-five  cento; 
^d  I  am  never  to  go  in  debt  for  things  to  give 
poo.    children    again."    Mildred's    face   grew    «^ 
Z  could  see  that  Beth  and  Conme  had  suffered 
,  considerable  reaction  of  friendUness  because^of 
their  spasmodic  burst  of  generosity;  but  now  M^ 
dred's    beautiful    and  mysterious  present  was  the 
Z^  of  dispelling  tiie  cloud.    It  w^  chanmng 
To  have  a  school-mate  such  a  favorite  with  unseen 
Lers ;  for  since  Beth  and  Connie  had  not  brought 
Z  boots  and  dress,  Mildred  at   once   decided  on 
.     giving  the  sailor  husband  the  credit  oi  the  gift. 


86  MILDRED  KfUfT'B  HERO. 

«He  wiU  bring  gifts  next  time  to  his  children, 
most  likely,"  Connie  sugge8t«d.  "I  hope  he  will 
find  out  soon  about  me   and   Beth  being  adopted 

too." 

«You  are  so  rich  he   may  not  think  it  neces- 
sary." 

♦'But  we   enjoy  presente   and  surprises  just  as 
much    as   poor    chUdi-en,"     Beth  affirmed,   nowise 
willing  to  be  overlooked  by  folk   real  or  imagin- 
ary.    Mildred  conned  her  lessons  that  day  like  one 
in  a  dream.    The  events  of  the  past  few  days  were 
8o  very  unusual,  that  she  was  getting  bewildered; 
but  it  was  a  pleasant  sort  of  bewildement.    Doug- 
lass paid  no  attention  to  her  during  the   day;  but 
Beth  and  Connie  again  accompanied  her  home,  by 
turns  carrying  their  lunch-basket,  which  seemed  a 
Uttle  heavy.    The  children  were  awaiting  them  at 
the  gate,  and  Paul  set  up  a  prolonged  tooting  on 
his  tanunpet  by  way  of  showing  his  delight  at  see- 
ing  his  benefactors. 

"Cook  gave  us  a  double  quantity  of  luncheon 
tcKlay  on  purpose  to  come  here  this  evening," 
Connie  said,  after  they  had  reached  the  ^summer- 
house. 

"Myl    isn't  that  fine  I      Did  you   bring   some 


aiFTB. 


vt 


ildrent 
le  will 
dopted 

neces- 

just  as 
nowise 
imagin- 
ike  one 
ys  were 
ildeied; 
Doug- 
ay;  but 
lome,  by 
emed  a 
them  at 
>ting  on 
\,  at  see- 


meat?    I  like  meat,"  Paul  remarked,  rather  hun- 

g[iily* 

"I  have  some  in  mine,"  Beth  said;  '^boUed 
tongue  and  chicken  both."  Paul's  eyes  glistened. 
Meat  WHS  too  great  a  rarity  with  him.  Mildred 
flitte*^.  around  like  some  motherly  Krd,  too  happy 

for  many  words. 

"Mamma  lets  me  have  weak  tea.  She  says  it 
won't  hurt  my  complexion,"  Connie  hinted. 

Mildred  went  with  the  request  to  her  mother 
and,  as  usual,  found  her  willing  to  do  her  share  in 
making  the  children  happy. 

Paul  found  his  appetite  so  whetted  by  the  cold 
tongue  and  relishing  ham,  that  he  scarcely  knew 
when  he  had  enough;  while  aU  the  children  en- 
joyed the  picnic  tea  very  much. 

«I  wish  we  could  have  supper  like  this  every 
day,"  he  said,  regretfuUy  picking  up  the  hist 
crumb  of  cake  that  Uy  on  his  plate. 

"Well,  we  can  have  it  pretty  often,"  Beth  said. 
uT  only  wish  papa  could  come  some  evening  with 
us.  He  says  he  don't  like  big  parties,  where 
everyone  wears  their  best  clothes  -rd  company 
marmexs.  Whec  he  was  a  boy  he  lived  in  the 
country  and   iised  i-)  go    to    froUcs,  where    ihey 


M 


MILDRED  KENT'S  BERO. 


worked  aU  day  to  pay  for  the  fun  at  night.    He 
gays    that   wafl  real    fun-not  the    niake4)eUeve 

kind."  ^    ,^ 

"And  do  you  have  the  parties  that  he  dont 

like  at  your  house?"  MUdred  asked. 

«0h  yes;  but  I  have  to  go  to  bed  before  the 
crowd  comes.  But  I  always  get  up  and  watch 
them  over  the  banisters." 

i»  Do  you  have  tea  and  cake  and  rasM,  for  them?" 

Paul  asked. 

"Oh  yes,  you  never  saw  such  lovely  things,  and 

such  quantities." 

"You  have  some  left  for  the  next  day?"  Paul 

again  asked. 

"For  a  good  many  days.    We  get  tired  of  it." 
"I  wish  we  could  have  parties.    I  would  never 

get  tired.    When  I  am  a  man  I  will  like  them,  I 

know." 

"But  it  is  only  rich  people  who  go  to  parties 

and  have  them." 

"Maybe    ITl    be    rich.    It  is  a  long  time   till 

then." 

"You  dear,  foolish  boy  you  may  never  Uve  to 

be  a  man." 

"Yes  I  wm.    It  is  only  very,  very  good  boys 

that  die." 


It.    He 
i4)elieve 

e  don't 

tore  the 
I  watch 

them?" 

ngs,  and 

?"   Paul 

I  of  it." 
Id  never 
)  them,  I 


QIFTB.  ^ 

H  You  are  only  a  very  good  boy,  I  expect,"  Beth 


Paul  l«)ked  a  trifle  self^onsciouB.    "Any  way, 
I  do  lote  of  things  for  my  mother,  and  I  never 

Bwear  or  tell  lies." 

ui  'most  iWnk  you  are  one  of  the  dymg  kmd. 
I  do  not  see  how  you  could  be  much  better,"  Con- 
nie  said,  very  seriously.  . 

Paul  looked  a  little  frightened,  and  concluded 
to  lower  the  standard  of  his  goodness. 

They  feU  to  telling  stories,  when  Paul,  purely 
from  anxiety  as  to  his  own  safety,  acted  the  part 
of  naughty  boy.  Connie  said  at  h«t,  quite  severe- 
ly.  ul  think  you  will  Uve  tobe  a  very  old  man. 
You  are  not  one  of  the  story4)ook  kind  of  good 
boys."  His  face  brightened,  and  after  that  his  be- 
havior was  extremely  circumspect. 

The  sun  had  set,  and  Mrs.  Kent  came  to  send  the 
visitors  home  and  take  her  own  biood  in  from  the 
falling  dew.  Beth  and  Connie  put  on  their  hat« 
and  took  up  the  Ughtened  lunch4»sket.  "We  have 
had  SI  ai  a  good  time.  I  think  it  must  be  like 
the  f^Uos  fother  tells  abouC  Beth  said  wistfully 
as  she  swd  good  night.  ^ 

ul  am  so  ghid  MUdred  came   to    our   school. 


i  ! 


f     ■"! 


40  MILDRED  KENT'S  BKRO. 

She  gets  us  better  times  than  any  of  the  girls  have, 
and  then  we  have  Grassmere  for  Saturday,"  Con- 
nie remarked  witli  much  satisfaction. 

"  This  is  nicer  than  Grassmere,"  Beth  said. 
"You  foolish  girl,  how  can  you  say  that?   And 
you  have  never  been  at  Grassmere  to  see  how  very 
lovely  it  is,"  Connie  remonstrated. 

«WeU,  this  is  perfect  only  for  the  beetles  and 
spiders  and  things."  Beth  had  a  very  wholesome 
respect  for  insects. 

"My  dear,  you  may  come  here  as  often  as  you 
wish,  providing  your  parents  are  willing,"  Mrs.  Kent 

said  kindly. 

"Our  mothers  don't  love  us  as    you    do    your 

children." 

Mrs.  Kent  looked  shocked.  "You  should  not 
speak  in  that  way  about  your  dear  mottiers." 

"When  it  is  true,  what  else  can  we  say?"  Beth 
asked,  with  a  wise -shake  of  her  Uttle  head. 

"  You  do  not  know  how  much  your  mother  loves 
you.  If  you  should  get  sick  you  would  find  how 
much  she  thinks  of  you." 

"Oh,  I  was  sick.  The  docter  thought  I  would 
die,  and  she  let  nurse  take  care  of  me.  She  said 
it  made  her  nervous  up  in  the  close,  dark  room." 


ai 
1( 

si 

0 

] 

i 


! 'WWff^-R^fWU.   '"■ 


OtFTB. 


41 


is  have, 
r,"  Con- 

dd. 

,t?   And 

ow  very 

lUes  and 
lolesome 

L  as  you 
[rs.  Kent 

do    your 

ould  not 

8." 

^?"  Beth 
d. 

ther  loves 
find  how 

,  I  would 

She  said 

rk  room." 


Mrs.  Kent  looked  sadly  at  the  chUd  and  did  not 
attempt  a  reply.  She  knew  there  were  such  heart, 
less  mothers  among  fashionable  people,  who  had  not 
Bfaength  to  keep  up  in  the  social  race  and  fulfil  home 

oblicrationS.  „ 

-  Maybe  if  you  were  to  die  she  might  love  you, 
Paul  exclaimed  eagerly,  as  if  it  might  be  a  good  plan 
to  try  the  experiment 

"Baby  AUce  did  die,  and  she  didn't  cry  much. 
But  papa  and  I  cried.  We  were  so  sorry  to  see  her 
put  away  in  the  dirty  ground." 

ui  must  not  let  you  talk  about  your  mother  any 
longer.  No  doubt  she  loves  her  children  as  absorb- 
ingly as  I  do,  but  she  has  not  the  same   way  of 

showing  it." 

There  were  t«ars  in  poor  litfleBeth's  eyes.     "You 

won't  keep  cross  with  me,  for  I  want  you  to  love 
me,"  she  said  pitifully. 

Mrs.  Kent  stooped  and  kissed  her  tenderly.    "I 
do  love  you,  my  pet,  and  you  can  think  of  me  as 

another  mother." 

Beth  nestled  very  affectionately  in  her  new  moth- 
er's  arms,  while  Connie  looked  on  curiously.  What- 
ever Beth  wanted  another  mother  for  was  mow  than 
she  could  well  conceive;    her   experience  of  that 


■iva 


CHAPTER  V. 


A  MOBNINQ  CALL. 

Vr/HE    mist  hung    heavy  above    the    city  on 
\\         Satuiday  morning;  not  a  bit  of  Unem 

®i^     ihe    Bky,  and    the    Bun    quit*    invunble. 
Beth  and  Comiie  had  been  aronnd  to  tea  Ae  ev^ 
ing  before,  and    Paul   had  so  recklessly  indulged 
Tchicken^Mdad  and  ham^mdwiches,  that  through 
the  night  he  made  the  discovery  that  he  was  the 
poesessor  of  a  very  rebt^lUous  st«maoh. 
^^e's  mother  had  given  a  h»rge  party  the 
evening    before;    hence    the   lunchhasket    fairly 
credced  under  it»   weight  of   dainties,  since    the 
cook  had  thrown  in  quit«  recklessly  rich  cake,  jel. 
Ues  and  meata   variously  prepaid  *«  Please   *he 
palate   «id   upset    the    digestion.     The    children 

tt 


called  for  the  remains  on  their  way  home  from 
school,  when  Mildred,  with  anutted  eyes,  took  in 
for  the  first  time  the  splendors  of  Connie's  home. 

"Why,  if  I   lived   in   such   a   house   as   this   I 
would   never  want  to   go   to   Mulbeny  Street   to 

play" 

"Why,  if  you  have  no  one  to  play  with  it  is 
just  as  lonesome  here  as  in  the  poorest  house. 
Carpets  and  things  are  not  any  company,  once  you 
get  used  to  them." 

"But  the  lovely  pictures  1"  MUdied  said,  with 

shining  eyes. 

She  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  walls  lined  with 
heavy  gUt  frames  and  dim  pictures  enclosed  with- 
in. Such  a  tantalizing  glimpse  it  was ;  if  she 
could  only  have  gone  softly  up  to  them,  and,  all 
alone,  feasted  her  soul  on  their  loveliness  1 

"Oh,  those  stupid  pictures  with  coves  and  rocks 
and  the  sea  and  hare-necked  women  I  I  had  rath- 
er look  at  the  pictures  in  an  almanac ;  for  there 
is  reading  under  them  to  tell  what  they  are  ahout, 
and  then  they  are  funny,"  Connie  said  contemptu- 
ously. "But  I  will  tsll  you  what  we  will  do. 
Some  day  when  mamma  is  sure  to  be  away,  you 
can  come  in  and  look  at  them  just  as  long  as  you 
like." 


A  MOMKIfO  CALL. 


4A 


•me   from 
,  took   in 
I's  home. 
BB   this   I 
Street   to 

tnth  it  is 
est  house. 
-,  once  you 

said,  with 

lined  with 
losed  with- 
u> ;  if  she 
im,  and,  all 
iss! 

8  and  rooks 
I  had  rath- 
;  for  there 
y  are  about, 
contemptu- 
ive  will  do. 
I  away,  you 
long  as  you 


uThat  would  seem  like  steaUng.  If  you  tod 
your  mother  that  I  wouldn't  touch  anything  only 
with  my  eyes,  maybe  she  would  say  I  might  come 

and  look  at  them."  . 

uShe  don't  like  chUdien  arotmd,  especially 
strange  ones.  I  guess  if  you  want  to  s^  Uiem, 
you  must  come  on  the  sly.  She  is  just  like  Beths 
mother,  and  don't  care  much  for  children." 

ul  expect  it  is  because  she  is  rich.     Poor  moth- 
ers  sometimes  die  for  their  chUdren." 

w  Never  1"  Beth  exclaimed. 

«I  have  read  about  them  doing  it." 

u  I  am  sure  nobody  ever  died  for  another.    Why, 

it  could  not  be  expected,"  Beth  said  decisively. 

u  You  forget  One  who  did."    There  was  an  ex- 
prtssion  of  awe  or  Mildred's  face  as  she  spoke. 
«I  cannot  forget  what  I  never  knew." 
.^The  Lord  Jesus  Christ  died  for  us." 
Beth  was  sUent  for  awhile.     -'But  there   were 
.0  many  that  he  died  for.     MilUons  and  nuUions 

uYes  But  I  have  read  that  He  died  for  each 
one  of  us  separately;  just  as  if  there  wasn't  an- 
other, soul   in  the  whole  world  to   be. saved   but 

one's  self."  ,  „ 

**!  would  not  read  such  things,  x   I  were  ^bu, 


ri 


4 


Connie  .aid  a  trifle  nervouriy.    "Fairy  »torie«  are 
ever  so  much  nicer." 

..But  the  other  is  better  for  U8  in  the  end.    I 
am  very  anxious  to  get  to  heaven  when  I  die." 

-Oh,  »o  we  all  are;  but  there's  plenty  of  time 
to  think  about  tho«e  thinga.  I  hope  you  are  not 
going  to  be  tiresome  and  talk  about  death  and 
all  those  dreadful  things." 

Mildred  was  silent,  and  soon  after  they  were 
greeted  by  Paul's  tin  trumpet,  which  was  rapidly 
becoming  as  great  a  nuisance  in  the  neighborhood 
as   the   "Irishman's  rooster"  that  Mrs.  Carlyle  so 

adroitly  exorcised. 

»l  wish  we  had  bought  him  a  Jew's  harp,"  Con- 
nie   muttered,   holding    both   hands   to   her   eaiB. 
The  table  once    spread  and  the  lunch-basket  emp- 
tied, Paul  ceased  blowing  and  sat  with  very  watery 
mouth,  watehing  the  good  things.     The  girls,  whom 
the  cook  had  treated  to  aU  the  good  iMngs  they 
could  eat,  decided  it  was  much  t»o  early  for  tea,  and 
sat  telling  stories.     Paul  was  too  much  of  a  man 
to  say  anything,  but  Grace  whimpered  softiy  oc- 
casionaUy  to  have  her  supper.    At  last,  in  a  pause 
in    the    story-telling,     Paul     suggested      eagerly: 
«Let  us  make  beUeve  I  am  the  sailor  father  came 
home  nearly  starved." 


A  MOBHinO  CALL. 


47 


jonw  ore 

)  end.     I 

I  tUe." 

}f  of  time 

II  are  not 
Leath   and 

they  were 
as  rapidly 
ighborhood 
Carlyle  so 

larp,"  Con- 
her   ears, 
asket  emp- 
ery  watery 
jirls,  whom 
things  they 
for  tea,  and 
,  of  a  man 
I  softly  oc- 
in  a  pause 
I      eagerly: 
father  come 


..I  am  nearly  starving,  too,'*  Onwie  whispered, 
but  BO  loudly  they  all  overheard. 

uit  is  no  use  for  us  to  try  to  do  anything. 
These  ohUdren  just  want  to  be  stuffing  themselves 
all  the  time,"  Connie  said  angrily. 

Paul  winked  very  hard  and  then   took    up   his 
trumpet.       Beth,     who    was    more   tender-hear«»d, 
gave  them  a  pUte  full  of  good  things,  and  sent 
both  chUdren  outside  to  eat  them  at  their  leisure. 
MUdred  looked  much  happier,  and  preceded  to  toU 
one  of  her  most  fascinating  stories,  making  it  up 
as  she  went  along.    Beth  and  Comiie,  whose  ima. 
ginations  were  exceedingly  sterile,  wondered  at  the 
extent  of  her  reading,  but  did  not  know  they  were 
frequenUy  woven  into  the  stories  themselves. 

The  moment  came  at  hut  when  they  graciously 
announced  their  readiness  to  have  tea  served.  Paul 
wished  for  some  time  that  he  could  sit  and  eat 
fruitKsake  and  chicken^MUad  forever;  but  at  h»t 
he  got  sated  even  with  these,  and  before  very  long 
wondered  h<>w  he  could  have  eaten  them  at  aU. 
After  tea  the  one  tUeme  that  absorbed  them  was 

the  morrow's  visit 

u  Maybe  it  won't  be  fine,"  Paul  suggested. 
Things  in  general  were  beginning  to  wear  rvery 
dismal  aspect  to  him. 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


\ .«  vr 

mh 


uOf  course  it  will  be  fine,"  Connie  said  oracu- 
larly.    "Just  see  what  a  lovely  sunset  it  is." 

"I  have  often  seen  the  sky  look  that  way  and  a 
big  storm  come  the  next  day,"  Paul  affirmed,  with 
the  weather-wisdom  of  seven  summers. 

«I  believe  you  want  it  to  storm,"  Connie  retorted. 
u  If  it  dcKss  you  can  come  here  again  to-morrow. 
You    needn't    bring    your    victuals,  either."     Paul 
rather  disliked  the  thought  of  these  now. 

MWe  won't  come,  no  matter  how  hard  it  rains; 
and  you  are  a  very  disagreeable  boy." 

Paul  took  his  trumpet,  in  silence   and  went  lo 
the  roof  of  the  shed.    Up  there  he  could  toot  to 
his  heart's   content,  indifferent   to    the   vindictive 
glances    cast   at  him   from   neighboring   windows. 
Mildred  went  out  and  surveyed  the  sky  anxiously. 
There   were   certainly   a   gocd   many- clouds,    but 
there  were  generally  more  or  less  o1  them  in  the 
finest  weather.    Beth  and   Connie   went  home  at 
last,  promising  to  be  on  hand  before  two  o'clock 
next  day.    Mildred  watched  the  sky;  but  the  stars 
seemed  to  be  holding  their  ground  very  bravely 
in  spite  of  the  clouds;  bo  she  went  to  bed  quite 
light-hearted.    Very  early  she  awoke  and,  springing 
out  of  bed,  was  greeted  by  clouds  and  mists.    She 


CI 

m 
o^ 
ti 

y 

V 

i 

r 


N', 


; 


A  MORNING  CALL. 


49 


lid  oracu- 
is." 

ray  and  a 
med,  witih 

B  retorted, 
to-morrow, 
er."     Paid 

r. 

i  it  rains ; 

id  went  n 
lid  toot  to 

vindictive 
f  windows. 
'  anxiously, 
slouds,    but 
hem  in  the 
it  home   at 
two  o'clock 
»ut  the  stars 
ery  bravely 
0  bed  quite 
id,  springing 

mists.    She 


crept  son-owfully  back  and  waited  to  hear  her 
mother  astir,  some  unwelcome  moisture  filling  her 
own  eyes.  "I  might  have  seen  such  lovely  pic- 
tures," she  soliloquized.  "I  wonder  if  it  would  be 
wicked  to  ask  God  for  a  fine  day?" 

She  lay  meditating  for  some  time  on  the  sub- 
i«c.t,  trying  to  recall  an  instance   from   the    Bible 
when  i-ain  was  withheld  in  answer  to  prayer;  but 
Elijah's  long  drorth  wai.  the  only  one  that  she  re- 
membei^d.    It   would    be    terrible    if    ber   prayers 
should  receive  such  an  answer;  so  that  sue  felt 
poweileBS  to  do  anything  in  tiie  matter,  and  soon 
a  sharp  patter  against  her  window  dashed  every 
hope.    Tired  and  sorrowful,  she  got  up  and  dressed 
hei-self   when    sbe   heard   ber   mother  asti.-    The 
mother,  who  was  stiU  young  enough  to  remember 
the  acute   sorrows  of   childhood,  W  in  vain   to 

comfort  her.  , 

«It  may  be   quite  fine   by  two  o'clock.    Such 
very  heavy  rain  seldom  laste  many  hours." 

Mildi^d  went  to  see  if  there  was  Ae  smallest 
bit  of  blue  in  the  .ky,  but  retomed  to  her  mother 
utterly  disconsoUte.  «Maybe  Douglass  wdl  never 
ask  us  again,  and  then  Beth  and  Connie  wont 
care  for  me,  and  I  did  so  want  to  see  the  pictures 


BO  MILDRED  KENT'S  HEKO, 

and  have   a  sail   on  the  lake."     The   teats   ^ere 
dropping  silently  on    the    tablecloth  and  her  por- 
ridge  stood  untasted.    Paul  came  clattering  down 
staiis,   giving  an   occasional   puff  at  his   trumpet. 
At  sight  of  MUdred's  dolorous  face  his  own  grew 
more  sober.     He  looked  indifferently  at  the  break- 
fost,   and   altogether  it    did    not   promise   a   veiy 
happy  day  for  any  of  them,  with   Mildred,  who 
generaUy  helped  to  make  a  good  deal  of  sunshine 
Z  the  home,  so  heavy-hearted,  and  Paul's  digestave 
apparatus  in  a  state  of  rebeHion.     But  the  mother 
proceeded   to   brighten   up    the   rooms   and    make 
things  as  cheerful  as  possible.    Mildred,  overcome 
at  hist  with  loss  of  sleep  and  sorrow,  hiy  down  on 
the  sofa  and  went  fast  asleep,  ^hile  Paul  curled 
UP  in    the  comer  and  was  soon  peacelully  "kmt. 
L,  up  the  raveled  edge"  of  kst  iilght's  broken 
sleep     A  knock  at  the  front  door  at  last  disturbed 
the  sUent  house.    Mrs.   Kent   went,  expecting  to 
meet  one  of  her  patrons;  when  instead  she  saw  a 
handsome  kd,  in  dripping  macintosh,  on  the  door- 

'*^^Does  Mildred  Kent  Uve  Here?"  he  inquired. 
uWiU  you  please  tell  her  that  a  carriage  from 
Grassmere  will  call  for  her  at  two  o'clock?" 


se 

y< 

tl 
w 

si 

o 

ti 
f 


aro   ^ere 
her  por- 
Jig  down 
trumpet. 
>wn  grew 
he  break- 
a   veiy 
dred,  who 
sunshine 
digestive 
le  mother 
Eind    make 
,  overcome 
y  down  on 
'aul  curled 
ally  "knit- 
it's  broken 
it  disturbed 
cpecting  to 
she  saw  a 
n  Ihe  door- 

e  inquired. 
^Triage  from 
lock?" 


A  MOHNINQ  CALL. 

"Won't  you  come  in  and  teU  her  yourself?  To 
see  her  delight  may  be  some  slight  recompense  for 

your  kindness." 

Mrs.  Kent's  eyes  were  shining  with  something 
that  looked  strangely  like  tears.  Doughws,  for  it 
was  he,  glanced  at  his  dripping  garments  and  then 
at  the  clean  floo». 

"A  Uttie  water  will  quickly  remove  all  traces 
of  muddy  boots.  I  should  like  Mildred  to  hear 
the  welcome  news  from  you.  She  has  foUen  asleep 
from  sheer  sorrow." 

Douglass,    without    further    hesitation,   followed 
Mrs.  Kent  into  the  sitt^ag^room,  and  with  a  qmck 
survey  took  in  its  home-like  air  and  n«at  appear- 
ftnce.    Old  pictures,  that  he  decided  were  heirlooms, 
hung    on    the    walls;    a    mahogany    book-case    in 
one  comer  was    crowded  full  of    books,  while    a 
small  English  harmonium  swod  opposite  the  fire- 
phwe;   and    on   a    krge     chinte-covered   sofa    lay 
MUdred    and    Paul,  fast   asleep.     Grace,   through 
her  tangle  of  ctitIs,  was  peeping  at  him  from  be- 
hind a  huge  arm-chair.     Through  an  open    door 
beyond  he  could  see  the  bright  yellow  floor  and 
polished   tins    and    brasses    of   the    cosy   kitchen. 
MUdred  still   slept,   h«r    teaivwashed  face  looking 
pitifully  sad. 


5S  MILDBED  KEKT'B  HERO. 

.Speak  to  her;  she  sleepe  Ughtly,"   M«  Kent 
whUpered,  keeping  weU  out  of  sight  herself. 

Douglaas  hesitated,  and  then  going  lightly  to 
her  side  laid  his  hand  on  the  Utde. brown  head. 
She  opened  her  eyes  with  a  puzzled  air,  looking 
startled  for  an  instant;  but  recognizing  who  it 
was,  she  sprang  t»  her  feet  eagerly. 

.Are  we  going  to  Giassmere?"  she  asked,  foiv 
getful  of  everything  but  her  one  supreme  desue. 
uYes,  we  will  send  the  carriage  for  you  attwo 

o'clock,"  ,      .  .       V. 

uOh,  Paul,  just  listen!"  she  cried,  giving  him 
a  shake.  "We  are  going  to  Grassmere,  and  in  a 
carriage."  Then  she  turned  around  humbly.  "I 
forgot  to  tl-mk  you;  but  it  is  so  long  since  I 
have  had  a  drive  in  a  carriage  I  can't  remei^ 
her  what  it  is  like,  and  it  seems  too  good  to  be 
true.  I  au  so  glad  I  did  not  pray  about  the 
rain  this  morning,"  she  added  more  sedately. 

uWere  you  so  anxious  to  go  that  you  prayed 
about  it?"  Douglass  asked  with  some  amusement, 
as  he  sat  down  carefully  on  the  comer  of  a  chair. 
MUdred  nodded  her  head  rather  shamefacedly.  He 
would  surely  think  her  very  childish  indeed. 
.'Well,  i  shall  not  be  at  home  next  Saturday, 


\"i 


In  Kent 
elf. 

ightl>  to 
iwn  head. 
r,  looking 
g  who   it 


asked,  for* 
le  desire, 
^ou  at  two 

|riving  him 
,  uid  in  a 
imbly.     "I 
ing  since  I 
a't    remem- 
good  to  be 
about  the 
lately, 
you  prayed 
amusement, 
r  of  a  chur. 
ifacedly.  He 
udeed. 
xt  Saturday, 


A  MOBSINO  CALL. 


and  I  thought  it  would  be  tiresome  for  you  to 
wait  so  long.    We  can  have  games,  instead  of  the 

sail  on  the  lake."  ^^ 

"Have  you  pictures  with  thick  frames  on  them? 
"Why,  of  course;  but  what  has  the  firames   to 

do  with  them?" 

"I  suppose  people  do  not  take  the  trouble  to 
frame  poor  pictures.     If  you  are  willing,  I  will 

look  at  them." 

"But  you  would  soon  get  Ijred." 
ul  do  not  think  so.    I  never  saw  as  many  pic 
tures  as  I  wanted  to." 

«It  seems  to  me  you  have  had  a  good  many 
Umitations  in  your  life.  Never  to  school  until 
this  week,  no  carriage  drives,  and  not  even  as 
many  pictures  as  you  wanted  to  look  at" 

ul  expect  I  have,"  she  said  humbly,  as  if  m 
some  way  she  were  to  blame  for  it 

"Never  mind.  You  shaU  have  the  drive,  and  I 
think  we  can  satisfy  you  with  pictures  for  once." 

Paul  had  been  sitting  up  in  his  comer  of  the 
sofa,  an  absorbed  listener.  Such  a  great  lad  as 
Dougtoss  was  quite  a  giant  in  Paul's  eyes,  accus- 
tomed  only  to  Uttte  girls.  He  wanted  so  ^u^ 
to  ask  if    he  had  dogs    and    rabbits   ftud  a  jack- 


54 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HEKO. 


knife,  but  modeeiy  kept  him  silent.     Douglass  en- 
joyed  sitting  there.     ^   was  a  new   and  on  the 
whole  rather  pleasing  experience.    The  clean,  home- 
like  room,    the  brighlrfaced    chUdren,   the    subtle, 
indescribable   spirit   of    comfort  that    broods   over 
some,  homes,  which  even  such  humble  creatures  as 
dogs  And  cats  seem  to  recognize,  was  very  mani- 
fest in  Mrs.    Kent's    cottage.     His    own   splendid 
home   did  not   just   then   strike   him   as   being  a 
much    more    desirable    habitation   than    this.      To 
lounge    on   that  roomy,   chintz-covered   sofa,   with 
one  of  those   old,  leather-tound  books   to   supple- 
ment   whatever   companionship  the  children  might 
lack,  listening  to  MUdred's   quaint  sayings,  would 
be  a   quite   jolly  way  of  spending  a  rainy  aftei^ 
noon.    Paul  was  watching  him  so  wistfully,  Doug^ 
lass  felt  in  his  pockets  for  sometihing.  to  give  Mm; 
but  there    was  nothing  but  some   useless  bits  of 
twine  and  his  knife.   Paul's   eyes  were   devouring 
him  now.     He   thought  perhaps   he  was   going  to 
let  him  look  at  his  knife.     Doughws  took  it  out, 
undecided  whether  it  would  be  just  tiie  thing  to 
offer    him;    they  certainly  did  not  seem  like  poor 
.     people,  and  a  gift  offered  so  openly  might  not  be 
acceptable.    Dropping  parcels   in   the  front  porch 
was  quite  a  different  thing. 


»-."mj 


l^lass  en* 
on  the 
in,  home- 
)    subtle, 
ods   over 
atuies  as 
Bry  mani- 
splendid 
being  a 
■ins.      To 
ofa,   with 
»   supple- 
ren  might 
gs,  would 
suny  after* 
Uy,  Doug^ 
give  him; 
88  bits  of 
devouring 
going  to 
ok  it  out, 
)  thing  to 
,  like  poor 
;ht  not  be 
rent  porch 


A  MORNISO  CALL.  "" 

uHave  you  a  knife?  he  ventured  to  inquire. 
«No;  but  I  have  a  tin  trumpet.    I  would  like 
a  kmfe  better." 

"Did  you  never  have  one?" 

»»Ye3,  once;  but  it  hadn't  any  bhides,  and  a  boy 

stole  it  from  me." 

.That  was  a  misfortune;    but  you  would  have 
massed  it  more  if  there  had  been  bh»des." 

ul  have  been  praying  for  a  knife  this  long  time ; 
but  I  don't  say  that  prayer  when  I  do  my  other 
ones;  and  I  just  whisper  it.  Maybe  it  isn't  h^ 
way  up  in  Heaven.  Do  you  think  ihey  can  hear 
so  far  away,  anyway^"  It  was  the  first  time 
Paul  had  voiced  his  unbelief  in  prayer,  or  con- 
fessed how  very  material  his  most  earnest  prayers 

were.  ^       , 

Paul  was  standing  quit*  close  to  Douglass  now, 
looking  at  him  with  such  eager  inquiry  that   the 
lat^r  felt  ashamed  of  his  ignorance  ^espectmg  the 
spirit    world;  but   a    bright  thought   strupk  hun 
.    « I  think  your  prayers  havo  been  heard,  and  I  sent 
to  answer  them.    I  am  not  very  good,  but  maybe 
I  xnav  serve  for  that."     He  was  talking  now  more 
to    Wmself    than    to    the    round-faced,    eagei^W 
boy   at  his  side.    "Would  you   think    this    kmfe 


1 

I 


5«?  MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

a  good  enough  answer  to  your  prayers?  It  has 
four  bladef,  and  a  ork^rew."  He  held  it  out  to 
Paul,  who,  losL  in  admiration  at  its  beauty,  did 
not  realize  that  it  had  juat  been  presented  to  him. 
"Could  I  hold  that  knife  in  my  hand  while  you 
stay  here?  "  he  asked  at  last. 

"Why,  won't  you  take  it  and  keep  it?  I  can 
get  another  on  my  way  home."  Douglass  really 
wanted  the  loy  to  have  it, 

"For  my  own,  for  ever  and  ever?"  Paul 
exclaimed,  in  his  excitement  falling  naturally  into  a 
devotional  form  of  expression. 

"Well,  as  long  as  you  and  the  knife  hwt.  I 
hardly  think  it  will  be  forever,  unless  you  ara  very 
different  from  aven^  boys." 

"I  wish  I  could  do  something  for  you.    Would 
you  like  to  have  my  trumpet?" 
»tNo,  thank  you." 

"You  might  at  least  thank  him,"  Mildk«d  sug- 
gested, ^th  some  reproach  in  her  voice. 

"Thank  ycu  is  not  enough."    He  appealed  to 
Donglasti  for  confirmation  of  this  assertion. 
"It  usually  serves  to  e? press  one't.  gratitude." 
"Why,  I  say  that  for  a  piece  of  bread.    Would 
you  like  little  Gracie  to  kiss  you?    Her  kisses  are 
real  good." 


mm 


tmmm 


*    I  can 
»   really 

V*    Paul 
ly  into  a 

»  last.    I 
ara  very 

.    Would 


died  8Ug- 

ppealed  to 
m. 

■fidtude." 
L    Would 
kisses  are 


A  MORNina  CALL. 


S7 


«If  it  will  be  agreeable  to  her  to  give  me  one, 
and  it  may  relieve  jrour  feelings  a  Uttle." 

Paul  went  for  Gracie  to  help  bim  clear  off  his 
deep  indebtedness.  But  she  was  not  used  to  be- 
stowing  her  favors  promiscuously,  and  would  not 
come.  He  urged  her,  even  offering  to  take  her 
into  partnership  with  his  knife ;  but  she  was  obdu- 

rate.  „  _ 

» Never  mind;  for  really  I  must  go  now,    Dou^ 
lass  said,  and  arose  to  leave.    The  children  stood 
watohing  him  until  he  was  out  of  sight,  two  of 
the  happiest  children  among  a  whole  city  full;  and 
all  this  happiness  so  easily  bestow*^  by  a  generous- 
minded  lad  who  had  discovered  very  early  what 
most  folks  never  perfectty  loam,  "that  it  is  more 
blessed  to  give  than  to  receive." 


^ 


ttoMl 


mmmmm 


^OSSIBLY   a  second .  kingdom  added  to  the 
dominions  of  some  great  potentate   would 
not  bring  to  his  heart  such  intense,  unal- 
loyed  delight  as  this  ivoiy-handled  jack-knife   did 
to  the  child-heart  of  Paul.      A  pair  of  new  shoes 
to  a  child  to  whom  new  shoes  are  an  unusual  ex- 
perience, brings  more  pleasure  than  a' shop  fuU  of 
them  to  the  same  individual  at  fifty.    What  would 
thrill  and  enrapture  the  soul  at  fifty  would  be  an 
incomprehensible    joy    at    six.       Will    the    human 
heati  t-Kus  continue  to  outgrow  itself  through  the 
eternities?    Or  do   we  at  fifty  reach  the  highest 
altitudes  of  spiritual  and  intellectual  development? 
Perplexing    enough    questions,    but    unanswemble 


.  ■V*r5'^(«P*!HE?T^»'r  ^- 


mm 


smmmmmm 


mmmmm 


B^BI 


1  to  the 
»   would 
use,  unal- 
mife   did 
ew  shoes 
usual  ex- 
ip  full  of 
lat  would 
lid  be  an 
e    human 
rough  the 
e  highest 
slopment? 
jiswerable 


JACK  CAMVEM. 


s» 


until  the  mysteries  of  our  exiatenoe,  unsolvable 
save  by  death,  are  made  pUin.  But  yrhen  we  can 
add,  at  so  little  outky,  to  the  sum  total  of  earthly 
happiness,  not  too  large  at  the  best,  by  making 
chUdren's  hearts  glad,  is  it  not  a  wonder  we  are 
not  busier  in  search  of  c  ances  to  increase  the  store 

of  happiness? 

The   rain    kept    dropping    steadily    until    noon, 
while  MUdred  watched  the  leaden  skies  with  a  new 
anxiety.    If  it  cleared  off  brightly  they  might  not 
send  the  carriage,  and  it  would  be  such  a  pity  to 
lose   the   ride.    At   noon   the  sun   shone  brightly, 
with  only  here  and  there  a  graceful  cloud  aeoking 
the  blue   dome.     Mildred,   with  much   persuasion, 
managed  to  swallow  a  bite  of  dinner,  wondering 
meanwhUe  how  Paul,  whose  appetite  had  returned 
with  its  accustomed  vigor,  could  eat  so  much,  or 
that  Grace  could  relish  her  third   slice   of  bread 
and    butter.      She    waited    witii    feverish    anxiety 
whUe  her  mother  did  up  the  work  before  helping 
her  dress  for  Grassmere;    but  when  the  finishing 
touches  of  tiie  mother's  deft  fingers  were  completed 
and  MUdred  stood  ready  for  the  carriage,  a  more 
winsome  or  dainty  maiden  could  scarcely  be  Jound 
in  castle   or    cot.     The   blue    merino   matched  so 


60 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO, 


perfectly  the  eyes  that  now  were  changing,  under 
strong  excitement,  to  violet,  and  the  color  came 
and  went  in  the  sweet  flower-face  bewitchingly, 
although  there  was  no  one  there  who  had  leisure 
to  watch  and  admire  it. 

She  stood  by  the  window,  alternately  surveying 
the  street  and  watching  the  clock.  The  minutes 
went  so  slowly  that  if  all  life  passed  with  equal 
tardiness  to  mankind,  a  centenarian  might  date  hia 
birth  from  the  creation.  Presently  there  came 
tripping  through  the  garden  gate  Betli  and  Connie, 
resplendent  in  all  the  freshness  of  their  best 
clothes.  Paul  ran  to  meet  them,  his  jack-knife 
suspended  in  mid  air,  the  tin  trumpet  ignomin- 
iously  dropped  in  the  coal-box. 

"Douglass  lias  been  here,  and  just  see  what  he 
gave  me,"  he  cried,  holding  out  the  knife  for 
them  to   admire. 

"Who  cai-es   for  a  jack-knife?  Is  Mildred   ready 

to  go?" 

Paul  fell  back  quite  crushed,  and  did  not  trouble 
himself  to  reply.  He  saw  a  boy  coming  down  the 
street  —  much  such  a  looking  one  as  walked  off  with 
his  last  knife-handle.  He  stood  back  at  a  safe 
distance  from  the  gate,  and  holding  up  his  treasure 
cried  out:    "Just  look  nt  that  for  a  beauty!" 


g,  under 
lor  came 
itohingly, 
d  leisure 

lurveying 
minutes 
ith  equal 
I  date  his 
)re  came 
d  Connief 
leir  best 
jack-knife 
ignomin- 

^hat  he 
knife   for 

red   ready 

ot  trouble 
down  the 
d  off  with 
at  a  safe 
is  treasure 
ity!" 


JACK  CAHVBM.  •* 

The  lad  glanced  around  carelessly.  "I  can't  see 
anything  but  your  ftet." 

« Can't  you  see    the   knife?   Four  blades   and  a 

oork^acrew?" 

"Not  a  hair  of  it.     Fetch  it  here,  and  I'll  take 

a  look  at  it." 

Paul,  struggling  with  the  desire  to  show  his 
knife,  yet  fearful  of  losing  it,  stood  uncertainly. 

»»Come  along;  I  am  in  a  great  hurry." 

Paul  moved  a  little  nearer  and,  holding  it  up, 
said:    "You  can  see  it  now." 

"BUvmed   if   I  can.    You   don't   expect  I'll   eat 

It." 

"No,  but  you  might  steal  it,  as  one  of  you  did 

my  other  one." 

The  hid  made  a  spring,  and  before  Paul  real- 
ized what  had  happened,  boy  and  knife  were  dis- 
appearing  through  the  gate. 

He  screamed  at  the  top  of  his  voice:  ''He 
has  stolen  my  knife."  And  forgetful  of  his  moth- 
er's command  to  the  conti-ary,  plunged  after  them 

into  the  street. 

"Stop  your  noise,  I  haven't  got  your  knife,"  the 

boy  hissed.  ■» 

"Please  somebody  make  him  give  me  my  knife," 


69 


MILDRED  KENT' 8  HERO. 


Paul  waUed,  in  his  agony  not  noticing  tb«^  car- 
riage with  a  handsome  pair  of  horses  just  at  hand, 
and  Douglass  sittmg  beside  the  driver  and  holding 
the  reins.  He  recognized  bare-headed,  screaming  lit- 
tle Paul,  and,  jumping  down,  had  the  larger  boy, 
to  whom  Paul  was  clinging,  by  the  arm  in  a  second 

or  two. 

"What  have  you  Iwn  doing  to  this  child?" 
'None  of  your  business  what  I'v£  ^ione."     He 
,umed  to  Paul: 
"ilas  he  got  the  knife  I  gave  you  this  mom- 

rng?  •  ^       , 

"Yes,  he  snatched  it  from  me,  and  wont  give 

it  up." 

"Come  here,  Peter,"  Douglass  called,  while  he 
stiU  held  the  wriggling  boy  finnly  by  the  shoul- 
der. "Tie  the  horses  to  something  and  come." 
The  coachman  was  soon  on  the  spot,  and  search- 
ing the  young  thiefs  pockets;  but  there  was  no 
trace  of  the  knife. 

"We  will  take  him  around  to  the  nearest  po- 
lice station,  'cr  he  has  certainly  got  it,"  Douglass 
said,  with  a  dangerous  gleam  in  his  eyes.  "It  is 
not  so  much  for  the  knife,  but  it  will  bfe  a  lesson 
to  him;  a  few  months  in  the  Reformatory  will 
4»ach  him  better  manners." 


tb«^  csu> 
at  hand, 
[  holding 
,ming  lit- 
rger  hoy, 

a  second 


did?' 


ae. 


He 


his  morn- 

ron't  give 

while  he 
the  shoul- 
id  come." 
id  searoh- 
e  was  no 

learest  po- 
Douglass 
58.  "It  is 
)6  a  lesson 
atory    will 


JACK  Cdxven.  •• 

"That  little  cove  couldn't  send  me  to  the  He- 

formatory." 

"No,  but  I  can."  The  boy  began  to  fear  he 
had  got  into  a  bad  scrape.  Stooping  down,  he 
sUpped  off  a  very  old  shoe,  reveaUng  a  soiled  foot 
with  a  shred  of  stockmg  hanging  to  it.  He  gave 
the  shoe  a  shake  and  out  fell  Paul's  knife.  Mrs. 
Rent  was  standing  in  the  group  now,  drawn  thither 
by  Paul's  screams.  The  poor,  frayed  stocking  and 
forlorn  appearance  generblly  of  the  boy  moved  her 
pity.  Before  he  had  time  to  run  off,  her  hand 
was  lightly  resting  on  his  ragged  coat. 

"What  h  your.  nAme,  my  boy?"  she  asked,  so 
kindly  that  he  looked  up    amazed  and  answered 
quite  readily,  "Jack  Carver." 
"Do  you  live  near  here?" 
"  Yes,  away  up  this  street,  off  in  an  alley-way." 
"  With  your  parents  ?  " 

«  Mother's  dead.  Father's  go*,  another  wife,  and 
she  tries  to  lick  me." 

"  I  make  no  doubt  he  deserves  twice  as  muoK 
as  he  gets,"  the  coachman  interjected. 

"We  all  deserve  a  great  deal  more  punishment 
th-»n  we  get.  This  poor  fellow  has  not  been  blessed 
with  our  opportunities." 


64 


MILDRED  KEUf'B  HERO. 


"I  say,  I  am  real  Bony  I  grabbed  your  boy's 
knife."  Jack's  bright  eyes  were  looldng  ap  into 
Mre.  Kent's  face  with  the  pitiful  expression  we  some- 
times catch  in  the  eyes  of  our  dumb  relations. 

"Maybe  it  will  all  turn  out  for  the  best.  Who 
knows  how  much  good  we  may  do  each  other  if 
we  get  acquainted  and  become  friends?" 

"I'm  not  fit  to  be  friends  with  the  likes  of  you. 
I  >vish  I  was.    I'd  be  true  as  steel." 

It  was  Mrs.  Kent's  turn  to  be  ataazed,  — a  street 
Arab  affirming  his  capabUity  of  fulfiUing  one  oi 
the   highest   possibilities .  of   humanity.    The   girls 
were  waiting  at  the   gate   with  much   impatience, 
but  Mrs.  Kent,  who   was   something   of   a   philan- 
tiiropist,  was  looking  for  an  opportunity  to  do  good. 
« I  will  be  your  fxiend,"  she  said.   "We  can  be 
mutual  Mfinds.    Will  you  coiiie  tt>  see  me  next 
Sabbath  afternoon?    I  will  read  you  some  stories 
my  own  children  like  to  hear." 

"Yes,  Bible  stories  that  teU  about  stealing,"  Paul 

said  scornfully. 

"Yes,  I  will  come,  and  thank  you,  ma'am,"  Jack 
said,  coloring  a  littie  at  Paul's  remark.  Then  he 
ran  do  /n  the  street,  and  at  the  first  comer  disap- 
peared from  sight. 


mmm 


our  boy*8 
J  ap  into 
I  we  some- 
itions. 
est.  Who 
h  other  if 

ces  of  you. 

—  a  street 
ng  one  oi 

The  girls, 
impatience, 

a  philan- 
to  do  good. 
We  can  be 
te  me  next 
ome  stories 

iling,"  Paul 

a'am,"  Jack 
L.  Then  he 
!omer  disap- 


JACK  CARVER. 


66 


The  girls  were  clambering  into  the  carriage, 
MUdred  kissing  her  hand  to  her  mother  as  the  horses 
started  memly  off,  while  Paul  stood  watching  with 
a  new  and  most  consuming  desii-e  starting  into  life 
in  his  heart  to  have  horses  todiive  himself. 

The  knife  and  trumpet  were  both  neglected  tliat 
afternoon,  so  long  as  Gracie  consented  to  be  driien, 
with  many  turnings  and  whoas,  until  she  was  utterly 
weary  and  i-efused  to  i-espond  to  the  lines  any  longer. 
Then  Paul  engaged  in  animated  conversation  with 
his  mother  about  the  horses  his  grandmother  owned, 
and  the   fam   servants   privileged   to   drive   them. 
If  he  were  only  in  beautiful  old  Enghmd,  he  might 
be  as  happy  as  Douglass.     He  resolved  some  day 
to   cross   that  great    mysterious   ocean  his   mother 
described,  but  which  he  could  never  fully  under- 
stand, and   walk  int»  the  dim,  old  kitchen,   where 
his  grandmother  superintended  her   maids  making 
the  butter  and  cheese. . 

Altogether  this  was  one  of  the  notable  days  in 
in  Paul's  life,  its  incidents  on  his  men^ory,  perhaps, 
one  day  to  be  repeated  to  other  bright^yed  Uttle 
boys— his  own  grandchUdren  in  the  remote,  strange 
future.  -^ 


CHAPTER  VIL 


GBASSMEitK. 


C«\jr  ^^-  KENT  fottftd  the  day  an  exciting  one, 
^"       as  weU  as  the  chUdren.    How  was  Mil- 
—13  dred's   visit   going  to  succeed?    Would 

her  expectetions   be   fuifiUed,  or  would  she   come 
home  grieved   and  disappointed,  as  from  her  first 
day   at   school?    It  seemed,  even  to   the   mothers 
sober  ^ancy,  more  like  a  chapter  out  of  fiction  than 
a   reaUty,  that   her   child   should   be    a   guest  at 
Grassmere.     In    Madame    Laramie's    dressmaking 
esteblishment,   where    Mrs.    Kent    had    learnt    her 
trade,  Mrs.  Everett  of  Grassmere  had  been  an  au- 
thority  in   matters  of  taste;  for  her   best  bonnete 
and    gowns    came    direct    from    Paiis,    and    even 
Madame  herself  was  put  in  a  flutter  by  an  occa- 


ORABBMERE. 


67 


Kciting  one, 
w  was  Mil- 
d?  Would 
I  ghe  come 
)in  her  fiist 
he   mother's 

fiction  than 

a   gaest  at 
dieflBmalring 

learnt  hex 
been  an  au- 
best  bonnets 
,    and    even 

by  an  occa- 


sional call  from  her.  Others  besides  Beth  and 
Connie  regarded  an  invitation  to  Gi-assmere  as  an 
honor  to  be  accepted  with  deep  thankfulness. 

The   afternoon   continued   fine,   the  sun  shining 
brilliantiy  untU  his  setting.     Even  Tlilbeny  Sta«et 
was  in  holiday  attu-e  after   the  i-efreshmg  rain,— 
•the  blades  of  grass  in  the  littie  garden-plot  looked 
greener   and    more   cheerful   with   the   smoke   and 
dust   waiviied    do>vn    into   their  roots.     How,  then, 
must    Grassmere,    with  its    stately    ti«es,   brilliant 
gardens,  marble  statues  and  fountains,  look  to  Mil- 
dred, so  unaccustomed  to  anything  but  brick  and 
wood!     The   pictures  hanging  in  their  stUl  loveU- 
nees  on  the  walls  would  surely  seem  tame  in  com- 
parison with  the  fresher  loveliness  of  the  newly- 
washed  outside   pictures   fashioned   by  God's   own 
hand,  their  beauty  retouched  according  to  the  cul- 
tivated rules  of  human  taste. 

Paul  experienced  a  fresh  sorrow  just  before 
nightfall,  from  his  jack-knife,— a  blade  unfortu- 
nately penetrated  the  flesh,  instead  of  the  stick  he 
was  fashioning  into  a  button  for  the  phiy-house 
door.  He  went  sorrowfully  to  bed,  the  knife  laid 
securely  beyond  his  reach,  and  his  hand  bo«nd  up 
in  sticking-plaster.    Grace,  as  usual,  sympathized 


fg  MILDRED  KEST'B  BERO. 

with  Wm,  creeping  Bcrftiy  into  his  bed  to  mingle 
her  t«ar8  with  his,  where  their  mother  found  them 
fast  asleep  some  hours  later. 

The  twUight  had  nearly  left  the  sky  to  the  charge 
of  the  stars  that  were  dit,pping  into  their  places 
along  the  welkin,  when  the  sound  of  voices  at  her 
gate   called   M«.    Kent  to   the   door.    Ther^   waa- 
Mildi^d,    rushing     eagerly     up     the    gax^en^aUc. 
Mrs.   Kent  went   into   the   room   and  lighted  the 
lamp.      The    home    would    look    poor    and    dark 
enough   at  the  best  after   the  splendors  of   Grass- 
mere.  '  .    .    ^       _ 
uOh,  mamma,  do  you  think  heaven  is  just  every 

bit  as  lovely  as  Grassmere?"  Mildred  cried  eager- 

^  Her  motlier  turned  to  look  at  her  glowing  face, 
and  hands  flUed  with  rare  hot-house  flowers." 

"Did  you  have  as  much  pleasure  as  you  ex- 
pected?" ,,    *  , 

»A  great  deal  more.  Oh,  if  you  could  only  go 
too '  But  do  you  think  papa's  house  up  in  heaven 
__his  mansion,  I  mean-is  quite  equal  to  Mrs. 

Everett's?" 

uYes  dear,  far  more  beautiful;  with  no  shadow 

of  death  to  darken  it." 


mmmmm 


)  mingle 
ind  them 

he  charge 
sir  places 
ses  at  her 
here    was- 
i-den-walk. 
^hted   the 
and    dark 
of   Grass- 
just  every 
ried  eBigoT- 

»wing  face, 

«rer8." 

\a   you  ex- 

* 

lid  only  go 
p  in  heaven 
lal  to  Mrs. 

no  shadow 


GRABBMERE.  •• 

"I  do  not  see  how  any  one  could  want  to  die 
at  Grassmere.  Death  himself  must  feel  sorry,  I 
am  sure,  to  enter  there." 

"Not  if  he  should  come  to  take  them  to  a 
grander  home,  my  child.    But  tell  me  about  your 

visit." 

mYou  will  let  me  tell  everything?  It  won't 
be  mean,  as  if  they  were  people  just  like  our- 
selves." 

"You  may  tell  me   all  you   wish,"  the   mother 

said  with  a  smile. 

"Then  I  will  begin  just  after  we,  got  into  the 
carriage,".  Mildred  said,  complacentiy,  taking  off 
her  hat  and  spreading  out  her  dress  to  keep  it 
from  wrinkling. 

"It  seemed  so  funny  to  be  moving  along  faster 
than   folks   on   the   street  who  were  walking,  and 
yet  to  be  sitting  still;   and  the  houses  seemed  to 
be  moving  too,  and  .  the  fences,  when  the  horses 
went  fast.     I  wonder  if  I  ever  had  a  ride  before  — 
I  can't  remember."     She  paused  for  her  mother  to 
assure   her   once    again   that    long,  long    ago,   she 
used  to  go   to   church   in  her  grandmother's   caiv 
riage,  past  the  pink  and  white  hawthome  hedges, 
and   through   the   pleasant   country   lanes   in    old 
England. 


70 


♦Vjo 


MILDRED  KEST'B  HERO. 

SV     sj  i  sUent  for  a  while,   as   she  ha«^ 
«.„..,    .    tme  btlore,  vai  Jy   trying  to  recaU  that 
e  ..  n    !«  experience;  but  memory,  it  would  seem, 
K  a  m.^-   no  picture  of  it  ou  her  walk.    With  a 
little  sigh  0.  regret  she  continued:  "Beth  and  Con- 
nie  were  so  happy,  they  couldn't  keep  still ;  but 
it  wasn't  the  ride  that  made  them  so,  for  they  said 
they  had  all  the  rides  they  wanted.     I  must  have 
been  too  contented  to  move;   for  I  just  wanted  to 
Bit  still  and  watch  the  people  in  the  streets;   only 
I  felt  sorry  for  them,  that  they  were  not  in  car- 
riages too,  and  going  to  have  a  pleasant  time  like 
xw.     Maybe  that  is  the  way  people  feel  just  after 
they  die  and  are  on  their  way  to  heaven.     I  wa« 
sorry  Avhen  we   left   the   road  and   turned   mto   a 
great    gate-wav,    with    tall   pillars  _  Oomiie     said 
^ey  wei-e-and  an  arch,  and  just  iriside  the  pret- 
tiest  Uttle   house,   which   she   said  was   the   gate- 
keeper's lodge.     There  were  flowera  growing  every- 
where, and   trees,   and  spouts   with  water   commg 
out,    that   Beth   said   were    fountains;    and   there 
were   statues  made  of   white   marble    standing   on 
gmnite  bases-      I   think   they  would  look   cold  in 

winter. 

Her  mother  snuled.     Mildred  was   always  think- 


xmttaiiiutmimmmagfl 


'VjO 


sail  that 
d  seem, 
With  a 
md  Con- 
all;   but 
they  said 
ust  have 
ranted  to 
jts;   only- 
it  in  car- 
time  like 
just  after 
a.     I  waa 
id  into  a 
mie     said 
the  pret- 
the   gate- 
ing  every- 
sr   coming 
and   there 
mding   on 
)k   cold  in 


ays 


think- 


ORABSMEHE. 


71 


ing  of  o+her  people's  comfort,  and  her  sympathy, 
it  seemed,  included  even  marble  statues. 

"The   carriage  stopped,   and  then  Douglass  led 
us  into  the  house.    It  is  just  like  a  castle,  pret- 
tier than  a  good  many  of  the  castles  we  have  in 
pictures.    I  was  ashamed  to  go  in  when  I  looked 
around  and  saw  everything  so  grand,  and  I  didn't 
keep  up  with  the  others  as  they  went  up  the  steps. 
It  was  so  different  from   our  house,   it  made  m^'^ilt' 
feel  just  like  Cinderelk."    A  flush  stole  over  the 
little   face    that,   in   its   delicacy   of    coloring,   it 
minded  one  of  a  rose-petal.    She  hesitated  a  momem 
but  seeing  her  mother  so  interested,  went  bravely 
on:   "Douglass    turned    around   at   the   door   and 
saw  me.    He  came  down  the  steps  again  —  there 
were  a  lot  of  them, —  and  took  me  by  the  hand. 
•  Why  don't  you   come   up?'  he   asked.    I  didn't 
know  just  what  to  say,  and  felt  quite  badly,  but 
at  last  I  said  very  low:   'If  you  please,  I  would 
sooner  stay  out  here.     It   is  too  grand  for  me  in 
there.'     I  could  hardly  keep  the    tears  back;   but 
I  tried  very  hard,   and  they   stayed  away.     Then 
he    said:    'The   pictures   are   inside,    and   I    have 
told   my   mother  you  are   coming.'      He   s^ke  so 
kindly  I  was  not  afraid  any  moi-e,  and  went  right 


79 


MlLDRhD  KKNT'S  HERO. 


up   the   Steps.     Then  a  big   man   with  a  red   faco 
opened  the  door.    I  thought  he  must  be  Doughias's 
nther,  he   looked  so  dignified;    but  the  girls  told 
me     afterward     he     was     the     butler,     and    that 
Douglass's  father  has  been  dead  ever  since  he  was 
a  baby."     She  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  look- 
ing up  with  a  perplexed  expression,  said:  "I  don't 
think  I  can  tell  you  how  it  looked  inside.     I  did 
not   know  the  names  of  things,  and  there  was  so 
much   to  see;   besides,   I   got   a   little   frightened 
again,   and  wished  so   much  I  was   at  home  with 
you  and  the  children.     Douglass  kept  hold  of  my 
hand,  but  he  had  no  trouble  with  Beth  and  Con- 
nie,   for   they  weren't  a  bit  afraid.      He  led   us 
away   up  stairs  to  such  a  pretty  room.    We  saw 
doore  opening  into  great  rooms,  with  pictures  and 
such  elegant  furniture ;  but  this  room  was  smaller, 
and   everything  was    made    of    pretty    blue  satin. 
There  were  lota  of  flowers  with  birds  flitting  in 
and    out    of    their    cages    among    them;  but    the 
nicest   of   all   waa    Douglass's    own   mother.      She 
looked  so   like  an   angel,  only  a  Uttle  older  than 
they  usually  are.     She  had  on  a  white  dress  with 
blue   ribbons   and   flowera.     Douglaas  said:  'Mam- 
ma,  this   is   the  littlo   gul  I  told   you  about,  and 


ORABBMHRK- 


78 


red  faofl 
touglam's 
^Is  told 
and  that 
e  he  was 
hen  look- 

"I  don't 
e.  I  did 
re  was  so 
frightened 
lome  with 
)ld  of  my 
and  Con- 
[e  led   us 

We  saw 
ctures  and 
as  smaller, 
blue   satin, 
flitting  in 
;  but    the 
ther.      She 
older  than 
dress  with 
lid:  ^Mam- 
about,  and 


these   are  her  playmate.'     And   only  just  think! 
She  took  hold  of  my  hand  and  looked  at  me  for 
a  whUe,  and  then  she  put  her  am  around  me  and 
kissed  me.    She  seemed  so  sweet,  before  I  thought 
what  I  was  doing  I  put  up  my  mouth  and  kissed 
her  right  on   the   cheek.     After   that   I    was   not 
frightened  again.    She  shook  hands  witli  Beth  and 
Comiie,  but  did  not  kiss  them;  and  aU  the  Ume 
^  kept  her  arm  around  me.     Then  a  giri  came 
^,  with  a  musUn  cap  on,  and  a  white  apron,  and 
led  us  away  to  a  room  where  we  t«ok  of  our  hat». 
She   brushed   our   hair    and    tied   on    our   ribbons 
again,   and  kept   talking   all   the  time  about  how 
much  she  liked  little  girls,  and  wished  they  had  a 
few  there.    Then   she   took    us   back  to  the  blue 
room,  and  Douglass  got  some  games  for  Beth  and 
Connie,  and  took  me  away  to  look  at  the  pictures. 
Such  a  grand    room,  as   large  as  a  meeting-house, 
with  more  statues  in  marble  standing  around ;  but 
they  did  not  look  so  cold  in  the  house.     I  asked 
who  they  represented,  and  if  he  could  tell   about 
them.      Douglass    said    perhaps    he    would    some 
time ;  but  it  would  take  too  long  then.     The  car- 
pet  was  so  soft  it  rested  the   feet  walking^ on   it; 
and    there    were  so  many  looking«la«ses,   that  I 


74  illLDRKD  KKNT'B  HKRO. 

kept   tuining    ai-ound   to  see   the   other   little   girl 
with  the  blue  merino  fi-ock,  forgetting  it  was  my-^ 
Mlf.     And    thei-e    were    tables    and    little    shelyeH 
covered   with   Huch  lovely  things,   and  great,  high 
windowH   with   cui-taiiw    tliat  looked  as   fine   as   a 
spider'^   web;    but  the    pictures  were    best   of  aU. 
Douglass   took  a  book    while    I   looked    at    them, 
but  it  t«ok  me  so  long  he   asked  if   I  would  be 
afraid   to   stay   alone;  and   then   he  showed  me  a 
tassel  I  was  to  pull  if  I  was  tired,  and  some  one 
would   come  for   me.     I  think    I   must   have   seen 
the  place  one  of  the  pictures  was  taken  from  some 
time,  for  it  came  so  close  to  my  heart.     It  was  a 
great,  high  rock,  and  away  behind  it  was  the  shore, 
with  gi-een  fields  and  trees,  and   cows  standing  in 
a  brook;   and    the    sky  looked  as  it    did    to^y 
when   the  sun   was  setting.      Whon   Mrs.   Eserett 
asked  me  the  picture  I  liked  best,  and  I  told  her 
that  one,  Hhe   said:   'You  are   an  excellent  judge, 
for  that  is  the  best  one  in   our  collection.'     That 
picture,  kept  me  so  long,  I   had  hardly  any  time 
for  the  othei-8.     I  was  much  surpi-ised  when  Mrs. 
Everett  and   the   girls   came   and    told   me   I   had 
been  thei-e  nearly  two  hours.     Maybe  they  thought  I 
would  be  in  mischief,  so  they  came  to  find  what 


I 


QMABHMaRK. 


u 


tUe   girl 
was  my- 
shelveH 
eat,  high 
Ine   as   a 
t   of  all. 
\i    them, 
MTould  be 
red  me  a 
Home  one 
lave  seen 
rem  some 

It  was  a 
the  shore, 
ending  in 
[id  to-day 
8.  Eserett 
I  told  her 
lent  judge, 
on.'     That 

any  time 
when  Mrs. 
me  I  had 
Y  thought  I 

find  what 


I  was  doing.    After  that  we   went  to  the  mu«o- 
room,  and  Mm.  Everett  pUiyed  for  m ;    the  murio 
was  lietter  than  any  I  ever  heard  before.     Aftei^ 
ward  Douglass  came  and  said  we  could  have  our  sail 
on  the  lake.     The  maid  brought  out  rugs   for  us 
to  sit  on,  to  keep  our  frocks  dry ;  but  I  liad  seen 
su  much  I  was  getting  stupid.      I    know  we  went 
along  a  iMith  with   great  trees   tlmt  seemed   to  be 
shaking  hands   over  our  heads,  and   they   were   so 
dose   we  could  only  see  a  litUe  bit  of  blue  be- 
tween the  leaves  ;   then  we  came  out  on  the  lake. 
The  trees  were  all   around  it,  and   they  seemed  to 
be  stooping  over   to  see  themselves  in  the  water. 
Some  of   them  were  so  handsome   it  seemed  quite 
natural  they  should  like  to  see  their  shadow.    You 
could  scarcely  tell  where  the  trees  ended  and  the 
water  began.    Dougkss  put    up  the    sail,  but    it 
wouldn't  go ;  and  so  he   took  the  oars  and  rowed 
right  out   into  deep   water.      I  was   frightened  at 
first;  for  I  thought  if   the   bottom   should  happen 
to  fall  out  of  the  boat,   I  would  soon  be   going 
away  up  into  the  deep,  blue  sky,  and  someway  it 
seemed  quite    dreadful    just   then   to  die;    but  if 
heaven  is  really  better  than   Grassmere,  I   suppose 
it  wou.  I  be   a  good  thing;  but  we  are  not  posi- 
lively  certain,  are  we?" 


76 


MILDRED  KEST'B  HERO. 


"Yes  dear,  positively  certain.  Queen  Victoria, 
if  she  trusts  in  Christ  and  serves  Him,  will  have 
a  richer  crown  and  a  more  beautiful  home  when 
she  (lies  than  shr  had  on  earth." 

Mildred  seemed  hardly  convinced,  but  she  went 
on  wit.1  her  description. 

"We  had  our  sail.  I  didn't  tell  them  I  was 
frightened,  but  I  was  very  glad  when  we  got  on 
the  ground  again.  Then  Douglass  showed  us  the 
hones,  and  his  own  pony  and  dogs  and  rabbits, 
and  the  doves  and  bantams,  and  all  sorts  of  hens 
and  things.  Some  o.f  them  came  ^vnd  ate  out  of 
our  hands;  and  we  picked  a  great  many  flowers. 
Douglass  told  us  the  ones  the  gardener  was  will- 
ing for  us  to  have ;  and  then  we  sat  down  on  the 
steps  of  one  of  those  marble  people,  —  Douglass  told 
us  who  it  was  —  I  forget  now,  but  he  was  a  great 
man  who  wrote  books.  We  arranged  our  flowers 
there.  I  picked  every  one  of  these,"  she  said,  as 
if  still  surprised  at  the  wonderful  fewjt,  —  she  who 
for  five  or  six  years  had  never  gathered  any  choicer 
blossoms  than  a  weak-looking  buttercup  or  dan- 
delio;i  hi  tho.V  own  tiny  grass-plot.  "  Then  a  bell 
:ang,  and  Dod^^lass  said  it  v/as  time  to  go  in  to 
dinner.      Only  think!     they  have   their  dinner  at 


Victoria, 
will  have 
)me  when 

she  went 

lem  I  was 
ve  got  on 
red  ns  the 
id  rahbits, 
ts  of  hens 
ate  out  of 
ay  flowers. 
p  was  will- 
iwn  on  the 
)Ugla88  told 
uras  a  great 
our  flowers 
he  said,  as 
—  she  who 
any  choicer 
up    or  dan- 
Then  a  bell 
to  go  in  to 
r  dinner  at 


ORABaUERE.  '' 

six  o'clock.    But  my!  it  was  such  a  dinner.      I 
wished  so  much  that  you  could  have  one  just  like 
it.    The  man  that  let  us  in  stood  behind  our  chairs 
and  gave  us  everything  we  wanted.     I  1   ^t  hop- 
ing he  wasn't  hungry,   and  could  have   some    of 
the  good  things.     The   table  looked  so  beautiful, 
and  the  room  was  'most  like  a  church  with  a  round 
window  right  in  the  roof,  and  it  was   so  high  I 
couldn't  help  looking  up  to  see  the  bright  clouds 
over  our  heads.    There  were  other  windows  round 
at  the  top,  like  St.  Malachi's  and  some  of  the  panes 
were   red  and  purple   and   green.      Mrs.    Evei-ett 
kissed  me  again  when  she  said  good-bye,  but  she 
didn't  ask  us  ever  to  go  back,  and  we  really  could 
not  expect  it.     Wasn't  it  just  like  what  we  -ead 
about?     I  believe  I  shall  remember  how  kind  they 
were  and  how  lovely  their  home  is,  a  long  time 
after  I  get  to  heaven.     If  we  all  get  there,  wouldn't 
it  be  nice  to  invite  them  to  our  mansion  sometime, 
and  thank  them  for   all  their  kindness?    I  shaU 
never  have   a  house  good  enough  in  this  world." 
She  looked  at  her  mother  eagerly  for  a  reply. 

« I  do  not  know  if  they  do  such  things  in  hoaven. 

'l  never  thought  of  it  befoi-e;  but  be  sure  the  very 

best  way  tx>  thank  them  will  be  to  be  found  there. 


n 


MILDRED  KEKT'8  HERO. 


•the  cup  of  cold-water  given  to  one  of  Christ 8 
little  ones  gets  ite  reward.  But  now  you  must  go 
to  bed.  The  little  tongue  must  be  tiied,  if  the 
feet  and  brain  are  not." 

«I  wont  want  to  go  to  sleep.  It  will  be  so 
pleasant  to  lie  awake  and  think  it  aU  over.  May- 
be I  shall  never  have  just  such  a  happy  day  again." 

She  said  her  prayers  and  kissed  her  mother 
good  night;  but  the  shining  eyes  and  flushed,  ex- 
cited  face  did  not  promise  a  healthy  awakeping. 


Christ's 

must  go 

d,  if  the 

■ill  be  so 
er.  May- 
ay  again." 
IT  mother 
ushed,  ex- 
ikeping. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


MK.    rELTON. 


ILDRED'S  attention  wandered  sadly  from 
the  preacher's  sermon  the  following  mom- 
_         ing.    She  and  Paul  went  regularly  to  St. 
Malachi's  church  on  Sunday  morning,  because  it  was 
the  nearest  and  the  seats  were  free,  and  there  was 
always  an  abundance  of  empty  ones.    The  mother 
attended  her   own  church,   a  much  larger  one,  in 
the  evening;  but  it  was  too  far  away  for  Paul  to  ac- 
complish the  walk  cianfortably.    The  adherents  of 
St  Malachi's  were  a  mere  handful,  and  the  gentle- 
hearted  rector  often  got  discouraged  over  his  slim 
following  and  the  poor  resulte  that  his  ten  years 
ia  the  parish  showed.    Mildred  used  to  wait  reg- 
ularly at  the  Uttle  side^oor  to  have  hiffi  shake 

79 


w 


80  MILDRED  KEST'B  HERO. 

hands  with  her  and  Paul  as  he  passed  out  of  the 
vestry,  and    sometimes  —  but  it  was  a  very  rare 
occurrence -he  walked  down  the  street  with  them, 
and    encouraged    her  tO    talk  about    his    sermon. 
This   morning   she  shook  hands   rather  hurriedly, 
and  was  hastening  away,  anxious  to  escape  conversa- 
tion with  him.    But  unfortunately  he  had  a  fancy 
that  morning  to  hear  her  talk.    He  took  his  hat  and 
■  cane,  leaving  the  sexton  to  lock  the  vestry  door,  and 
overtook   the  children  before  they  got  out  of  the 
graveyard,  which  held  a  good  many  of  the  earliest 
settlers  of  the  city,— so  long  buried  now  that  the 
graves  were  faUing  in,   and   the  headstones  were 
nearly  all  out  of  the  perpendicixlar,  the  names  and 
virtues  of  the  dwellers  below  pretty  well  worn  away 

by  the  elements. 

«You  do  not  seem  p^xious  to  xaflc  with  me  this 
u^orning,  my  little  Mend,"  Mr.  Felton  said,  as  he 
overtook  them. 

"No,  for  I  cannot  repeat  much  that  you  said  to  us 
this  morning,"  Mildred  honestly  confessed. 

"  And  why  is  that?" 

«I  was  thinking  so  much  about  Grassmere  and 
what  I  saw  there  yesterday.  I  expect  it  is  very 
wicked  to  let  myself  think  of  those  things  in  church, 


iiiUOTllll  ,11.  ll|il.lllll»»IWiP.I|l)IPI 


1i 


MB.  FELTON. 


81 


lut  of  the 
very  rare 
irith  them, 
1    sermon, 
hurriedly, 
>  conversa- 
d  a  fancy 
is  hat  and 
r  door,  and 
>ut  of   the 
he  earliest 
V  that  the 
»ne8   were 
names  and 
worn  away 

ith  me  this 
said,  as  he 

a  said  to  us 
L 

ssmere  and 
;  it  is  very 
B  in  church, 


especially  when  you  are  so  kind  as  to  tell  us  how 
to  he  good." 

"I  expect  it  is ;  but  very  few  are  as  honest  as  you 
in  confessing  their  wandering  thoughts." 

"Perhaps  grown-up  people  never  forget  that  the 
minister  is  preaching.  I  did  for  ever  so  long  this 
morning." 

Mr.  Feltpn  smiled,  but  Mildred  noticed  that  his 
eyes  looked  sad.  They  walked  on  for  some  distance 
in  silence.  • 

"I  do  not  think  I  will  ever  do  so  again,"  she 

continued,  sorrowfully;  "but  I  had  never  seen  any 

place  so  beautiful  as  Grassmere,  and  mamma  says 

if  we  get  to  heaven,  we  shall  have  a  lovelier  heme 

than  that.    I  began  to  wonder  why  everyone  wasn't 

good  so  as  to  make  sure  of  getting  there,  just  when 

you  began  to  preach,  atvd  then  I  went  on  thinking 

my  own  thoughts  for  a  long  time ;  but  I  listened  to 

you  at  the  last,  when. you  told  us  we  should  try 

to  make  each  other  happy.     I  am  going  to  begm 

doing  that  right  Way."     Mildred  had  never  talked 

quite  so  freely  or  lengthily  to  the  good  rector  before. 

"Bless  you,  my  child!  you  listened,  after  all,  to 

excellent  purpose;  better,  I  am  afraid,  than  ajjy  on 

else  there." 


MILDRED  KEfTT'B  .^ERO. 


i^have  a  jack-knife  and  havt,  cut  myself,"  Paul 
remarked  somewhat  uncertainly.  He  was  afmid 
jack-knives  were  not  suitable  subjects  for  Sabbith 
conversation,  especially  with  ministers;  but  Mr. 
Felton  was  very  absent-minded,  and  Paul's  remark 

fell  unheeded. 

ii  You  have  been  coming  to  St.  Malachi's  for  a  long 
time,"  Mr.  Felton  said,  rather  abruptly. 

«Ye8,  ever  since  papa  died.     He  and   1   used  to 
go  together  in  the  morning  to  Grace  Church.    It  is 
too  far  for  Paul  to|^alk." 
s'Ts  your  mpther  wing?" 

»'0h  yes,  we  could  not  have  spared  her  too.  It 
was  very,  very  hard  having  papa  go."  Mildred's 
voice  grew  tremulous. 

"It  has  never  occurred  to  me  to  ask  where  you 
live.  I  took  it  for  granted  that  ycW  parenta  were 
connected  wiUi  owe  church." 

«I  suppose  it  does  not  make  much  difference 
what  church  we  attend,  if  we  only  listen  well  to 
the  preacher  and  do  as  he  tells  us,"  MUdred  said 

apologetically. 

"Well,  no.  I  cannot  agree  with  that  proposition. 
It  is  of  paramount  importance  that  we  have  correct 
religious  knowledge.  But  I  will  call  and  discuss 
tixese  topics  more  fully  with  your  mother  shortiy. 


MR.  FELTOH. 


88 


elf,"  Paul 
ras  afraid 
L-  Sabbtth 
but  Mr. 
I's  remark 

for  a  long 

I   used  to 
LTch.    It  is 


ler  too.     It 
Mildred'8 

where  you 
larents  were 

L  difference 
ten  well  to 
lildred  said 

proposition, 
have  correct 

and  discuss 
ther  shortly. 


I  am  getting  up  a  class  for  confirmation,  and  may 
get  you  to  join  it  You  are  rather  young,  but 
your  religious  nature  seems  unusually  well  devel- 
oped." 

Mildred  did  not  wholly  understand  the  minister's 
conversation;  but  the  confirmation-class  struck  her 
as  something  very  desirable,  and  she  kept  repeating 
the  word  over  to  herself  to  keep  from  fo^tting  it. 
If  her  mother  could  not  explain  its  meaning,  the 
dictionary  could.  She  had  often  sought  its  help  in 
her  rather  extensive  range  of  reading. 

They  reached  Mr.  Felton's  comer  at  lae^,:  uhiiii 
time  he  stopped,  and  changing  his  cane  to  Ills  left 
hand,  shook  hands  with  both  Mildred  and  Pf«.ul. 
He  had  never  done  this  before  at  parting, -in  all 
their  acquaintance;  and  as  she  continued  on  her 
way  to  Mulberry  Street,  she  speculated  as  to  how 
much  longer  unaccustomed  and  really  wonderful 
thiDgs  were  going  to  happen  to  her.  Scarcely  a 
week  since  she  started  for  school,  and  now  what 
wider  ranges  were  broadening  out  to  her  intellectual 
vision !  Life  had  suddenly  assumed  a  wholly  changed 
aspect,  her  ideal  world  was  fading  into  thin  air, 
while  the  real  one  was  growing  more  bsautiful 
than  her  limited  knowledge  of  things  had  enabled 
her  to  picture. 


Mildred  repeated  the  text  and  what  she  could 
remember  of  the  sermon,  as  they  sat  after  dinner 
with  their  Bibles  ready  to  begin  the  hour's  lesson 
which  the  mother  invariably  held  on  Sunday  after- 
noons.    She  had  not  much  to  tell,  but  supplemented 
this  shortage  by  repeating  Mr.  Felton's  conversation. 
She  had  not  got  through  when  a  timid  knock  at 
the  back  door  surprised  them.     Mis.  Kent  went 
to  see  who  was  there,  followed  by  the  children. 
Paul  looked  slightly  aUtrmed  when  he  saw  Jack 
Carver's  shining  face,  fresh  from  a  plentiful  appUc^ 
tion  of  soap  and  water^but  the  mother  received 
him  so  graciously,  Paul  was  ready  to  welcome  him 

too.  .,, 

..We  were  just  beginning  our  lesson,  so  we  wiU 

go  right  on  with  it,"  M«.  Kent  said,  as  she  placed 
a  comforteble  armchair  for  Jack  to  sit  on.     He 
did  not  look  particularly  comfortable  for  some  time, 
however;  the  remembrance  of  yesterday's  episode, 
taken  with  the  neat,  refined  surroundings,  had  a 
subduing  effect.     Mrs.  Kent  gave  him  a  Bible,  and 
with  a  dolight  he  had  never  experienced  before  that 
he  could  read,  he  readily  found  the  chapter  that 
contained  the  day's  lesson.    They  were  going  regu- 
larly through  the  Old  Testament,  and  had  got  as  far 


[le  oould 
tr  dinner 
r*8  lesson 
lay  af  tei> 
)lemented 
versation. 
knock  at 
[ent  went 
children, 
saw  Jack 
ul  applica- 
r  received 
Lcome  liim 

so  we  will 
she  placed 
i  on.     He 
gome  time, 
f6  episode, 
ngs,  had  a 
Bible,  and 
before  that 
;hapter  that 
going  regu- 
id  got  as  far 


as  Samuel's  call  by  God  to  take  the  place  of  Eli's 
unworthy  sons.  Jack  had  begun  co  dip  into  literar 
ture,  but  it  was  of  the  most  sensational  character, 
while  he  regarded  the  Bible  with  much  the  same 
lofty  contempt  that  is  meted  to  it  by  some  of  our 
latterclay  scientiysts.  He  certainly  would  not  have 
taken  the  trouble  to  polish  up  for  this  hour's  study 
of  it8  pages,  but  that  Mrs.  Kent  had  in  some  subtle 
jhshion  won  his  heart  completely.  She  tried  to 
make  the  lesson  interesting  to  him,  and  from  the 
look  on  his  face  concluded  her  efforts  had  not  been 
in  vain.  She  had  not  confined  herself  solely  to 
Samuel's  mysterious  call  at  midnight,  and  liis  brave 
response  to  God,  but  went  back  and  forth  over  the 
long  lives  of  worthies  ~  Adam  and  Enoch,  Moees 
and  Elias  and  many  another  elect  one,  —  who  through 
their  righteousness  have  be.-n  immortalized. 

«  He  don't  tsdk  to  folks  now-andaya,"  Jack  hazarded 
at  last.  His  scriptui*  knowledge  was  extremely 
limited,  but  he  felt  safe  in  saying  that  much. 

«I  think  He  does  far  more  than  He  did  in  olden 
times.  Now  the  humblest^  most  desolate  soul  can 
come  to  Him  with  their  sins  and  griefs,  and  be  com- 
forted and  forgiven.  Long  ago  they  only-  came 
through  the  high  priest;  and  he  only  once  a  year 


-  ->    - 


^^^^^^^^iBn 


l.H»««»'- 


Se  MILDHED   KENT'S    HEM. 

entered  into  the  holy  place  and  beheld  the  Bhining 
of  God's  glory.  ToKJay  we  can  each  of  us  abide 
there,  and  hold  continual  communion  with  Him." 

u  I  didn't  know  folks  cculd  do  tbiit.  I  thought 
they  got  religion  just  to  keep  them  from  going  to 
hell,  and  that  it  was  mostly  something  like  life 
insurance -you  are  always  paying,  and  you  have 
to  die  to  get  your  money  back." 

Mrs.  Kent  smiled  in  spite  of  herself,  while  the 
children  looked  exti^mely  horrified  to  hear  any  one 
talk  so  about  religion. 

uWhen  you  have  studied  the  Bible  longer  and 
learned  more  aboat  the  happy  lives  and  triumphant 
deaths  of  God's  faithful  ones,  your  views  will  be 
entirely  changed.  Do  you  read  much  in  your  leisure 
time?"  Jack  colored  and  felt  exceedingly  like 
shielding  himself  with  a  lie;  but  with  M.3.  Kent's 
honest  eyes  upon  him,  he  felt  it  to  be   next  to 

impossible. 

..I  read  a  lot,  but  it  isn't  about  the  kind  you  are 
telling  me  of.  I  expect  they're  the  Devil's  children, 
with^  flesh  and  bones  like  the  others,  but  nothmg 

else  " 

«Does  it  do  you  any  good  to  read  about  them?" 
«No,  indeed, but  it's  exciting,  and  makes  me  forget 

my  own  aggravations  for  a  while." 


^ 


mmmm 


shining 
US  abide 
lim." 

thought 
going  to 

like  life 
you  have 

while  the 
ir  any  one 

onger  and 
riumphant 
ra  will  be 
our  leisure 
Lingly  like 
l.s.  Kent's 
)e   next  to 

ind  you  are 
I's  children, 
jut  nothing 

lOut  them?" 
es  me  forget 


MR.  rsLTOir. 

*'But  it  don't  help  you  to  bear  the  unpleasant 
things  aft/erward,  nor  make  you  happier,  does  it?" 

"I  get  mad  quioker'n  ever;  and  if  it  wa'n't  for 
the  bobby  I'd  try  to  do  some  of  the  smart  tricks  the 
books  tell  about.  I  did  try  yesterday,"  he  added, 
shame&cedly. 

"If  I  lend  you  good  stories,  will  you  read  them?" 

"There's  some  youngsters  home. — If  they'd  get 
hold  of  your  books  'twould  be  the  last  of  them." 

Mrs.  Kent  was  silent  for  a  moment,  for  she  was 
very  careful  of  her  books, — most  of  them  gifts  from 
dear  ones  divided  now  by  the  wide  sea,  or  the  river 
of  death.  She  looked  at  Jack.  He  was  gazing  a 
trifle  listlessly  out  of  the  window.  He  had  the 
forsaken  look  of  one  for  whom  nobody  cares.  Was 
it  accident  or  "the  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends" 
that  had  drifted  him  to  her  side?  If  he  could  be 
rescued  to  stand  at  last  among  the  shining  ones, 
what  matter  if  some  of  her  books  got  destroyed? 
Jack's  face  suddenly  brightened.  "Would  you  mind 
if  I  dropped  in  here  at  odd  times  when  I  had  no 
chores  to  do,  and  read  your  books  on  the  doorstep  or 
anywheres  out  of  your  way?  If  you  have  a  wood- 
shed it  would  do  me  in  warm  weather  as  well  «s  the 
Queen's  drawring-room." 


"'-'''^^'wffiwiiiitfta'aiiittMaw^^ 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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1^  ilM      2.2 

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I.I 

1.6 

1.25 

1.4 

-    6" 


Photographic 

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Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  HS80 

(716)  872-4503 


m 


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■ji 


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Microfiche 

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Coilection  de 
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Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


=J5.?"-^ii'"-;,i,.:t,^7..5c.",--;.^i^  i 


88 


MILDRED  KENT'S  UERO. 


Mildred  mildly  suggested  that  he  should  say  draw- 
ing-voom\  but  he  was  too  much  interested  in  what 
Mre.  Kent  was  saying  to  heed  her  correction. 

"  You  shall  sit  beside  me  and  read  aloud,  and  we 
can  talk  over  what  you  read;  so  we  shall  both  be 
benefited,"  she  said  cheerily.  Jack's  face  expressed 
keen  delight ;  and  a  very  good  face  it  was  when  good 
thoughts  were  at  work  behind  it. 

"Do  you  ever  go  to  church?"  Paul  asked. 

"Never,"  Jack  responded  heartily.  "They  don't 
care  for  coves  like  me  there,  who  haven't  the  ready  to 
put  in  the  box." 

"Come  with  me  to-night,"  Mrs.  Kent  said,  "and 
you  will  find  they  make  you  welcome  without  a 

cent." 

"  The  boys  '11  tliink  I'm  getting  good  for  sure, 

if  I  do  that." 

"  Do  you  care  very  much  what  they  think  ?  " 
"  Well,  no ;  but  they  chaff  a  fellow  if  they  find 
he's   turning  over  a  new  leaf.     I've  done   it  my- 
self." 

"Do  you  have  less  respect  for  those  boys  who 
are  trying  to  do  better?" 

"  No,  indeed,  but  there's  precious  few,  turns." 
"Will  you  come   then  to  church   with   me  to- 
night?" 


should  say  drato- 

crested  in  what 

rrection. 

id  aloud,  and  we 

ire  shall  both  be 

J  face  expressed 

t  was  when  good 

111  asked. 

y.     "They  don't 

en't  the  ready  to 

Kent  said,  "and 
come  without  a 

y  good  for  sure, 

they  think  ?  " 
low  if  they  find 
ve   done   it   my- 

those  boys  who 

IS  few,  turns." 
■oh  with   me  to- 


MR.  FELTON. 

Jack  stood  cap  in  hand;  he   looked  keenly  at 
Mrs.   Kent  and  then  at  his   own  shabby  clothes. 
"You'd  be  ashamed  of  me  —  these  are  my  best 

dmls." 

"Can  you  not  believe  I  am  in  earnest?  I  want 
to  help  you  to  be  a  noble  man.  Just  as  I  would 
wish  someone  to  help  my  own  boy  if  God  were 
to  take  me  from  him."     Jack's  eyes  glistened. 

"I'll  go  anywhere  you  want  me.  I'll  be  here 
in  time  to-night." 

His  voice  was  more  softly  modulated  than  usual 
when  he  spoke.  Then  he  turned  to  the  door, 
saying  good-bye  in  the  same  subdued  fashion. 
Jack  himself  was  amazed  at  seeing  a  few  tear- 
drops trickling  off  his  face  as  he  walked  slowly 
around  the  house  and  down  the  garden-walk; 
but  he  got  his  feelings  safely  under  control  be- 
fore he  ventured  on  the  street;  for  he  had  a 
great  many  acquaintances  whose  remarks  might 
quickly  restore  his  usual  frame  of  mind. 


4 


""mm 


CHAPTER  IX. 


AT  CHURCH. 


FTER  Jack  left,  MQdred  took  the  children  to 
the  summer-house,  to  continue  the  Sunday- 
school  in  more  orthodox  fashion ;  and  pres- 
ently Paul's  treble  was  heard  trilling  out  a  favorite 
carol  as  they  solemnly  opened  the  school,  while  the 
mother  was  left  to  enjoy  the  happiest  hour  in  all 
the  week  in  the  solemn  hush  of  the  Sabbath  after- 
noon. Comforting  influences  were  alwajrs  about  her 
at  this  hour,  loved  ones  safely  escaped  to  a  serener 
realm  were  tenderly  remembered,  and,  better  than 
these,  the  Master  himself  drew  near  and  held  com- 
munion with  His  loving  disciple.  After  the  school 
had  been  satisfactorily  concluded,  Mildred,  as  usual, 
told  them  a  Bible-«tory.     To-day  it  was  that  beau- 


90 


■■MiiSH 


AT  CHURCH. 


91 


k  the  children  to 
nue  the  Sunday- 
ishion ;  and  pres- 
g  out  a  favorite 
school,  while  the 
lest  hour  in  all 
le  Sabbath  after- 
ilwajrs  about  her 
iped  to  a  serener 
md,  better  than 
r  and  held  corn- 
After  the  school 
lildred,  as  usual, 
;  was  that  beau- 


tiful idyl  that  has  charmed  young  hearts,  Jew  and 
Gentile,  for  thirty  centuries,  —  Ruth  gleaning  among 
the  reapers  in  loving  obedience  to  Naomi,  and  her 
romantic  union  with  the  rich  Boaz,  that  ended 
at  last  in  the  immortal  renown  of  being  the  ances- 
tress of  our  Lord. 

Paul  ventured  the  wish  that  he  might  be  the 
ancestor  of  some  one  remembered  in  after  ages. 

"Why  not  be  great  yourself?"  Mildred  suggested. 
"  I  think  it's  as  easy  to  be  great  and  good  now  as 
it  ever  was." 

"It  must  be  pretty  hard  work  to  get  so  high," 
Paul  said  warily.  The  day  was  hot  and  their  lesson 
had  been  long;  hence  he  was  not  in  an  ambitious 
mood.  Grace,  grown  tired  of  so  much  food  for  the 
intellect,  concluded  it  was  time  to  look  after  her 
tea,  and  had  her  mother  soon  recalled  to  the  neces- 
sary activities  even  of  the  Sabbath-day.  The  hungry 
little  mouths  were  again  satisfied,  their  prayers 
said,  the  evening  hymn  sung  while  the  mother  ac- 
companied the  clear  young  voices  on  the  harmonium ; 
and  then  they  were  safely  tucked  in  bed,  where 
their  tongues  could  wag  as  busily  as  ever,  until 
kindly,  refreshing  sleep  hushed  them  into  silence. 

Jack    presented  himself    promptly  on   time,  his 


mmmmmmmmmmm. 


mmmmmmmam 


98 


MILDRED  KEyT<8  HERO. 


clothes  looking  more  shabby  than  ever  beside  Mrs. 
Kent's  handsome  mourning  costume  —  a  welcome 
gift  from  across  the  sea.  He  seemed  so  uncomfort- 
able about  his  appearance  that,  to  reassure  him, 
Mrs.  Kent  sat  with  her  bonnet  on  and  read  to  him 
the  second  chapter  of  James'  Epistle. 

"But  folks  now-a-da3rs  don't  mind  all  that  the 
Bible  tells  them,  not  even  the  preachers,"  Jack  said, 
still  unconvinced  of  the  propriety  of  his  appearing 
in  God's  house  in  shabby  garments. 

"  If  you  should  some  day  be  a  preacher,  you  will 
find  how  easy  it  is  for  us  to  stand  outside  and 
self-complacently  criticize  them  instead  of  taking 
the  Bible  as  our  mutual  standard." 

"I  could  never  be  a  preacher.  They  are  all 
gentlemen." 

"  I  hope  they  are ;  but  hundreds  of  them  were 
no  better  off  in  their  boyhood  than  you." 

"I'd  sooner  be  an  alderman,  if  I  riz  at  all." 

"I  expect  to  see  your  ambition  change.  I  have 
great  hopes  to  see  you  a  noble  man  some  day." 

Jack  flushed  with  pleasure,  but  liis  face  soon  fell. 

"I've  never  heard  of  a  single  Carver  being  any- 
thing but  common  folks." 

"There  must  always  be  a  beginning  to  every- 
thing," Mr,s.  Kent  said,  as  she  locked  the  door. 


.-,*,.;'v;^,/li.,;f:i 


iO. 

3ver  beside  Mrs. 

ne  —  a  welcome 

ed  so  uncomfort- 

X)  reassure  him, 

and  read  to  him 

;le. 

ad  all  that  the 

hers,"  Jack  said, 

of  his  appearing 

I. 

reacher,  you  will 

tnd  outside  and 

stead  of   taking 

> 

.     They  are   all 

8  of  them  were 
1  you." 
[  riz  at  all." 
change.    I  have 
n  some  day." 
lis  face  soon  fell, 
arver  being  any- 

inning  to  every- 
ced  the  door. 


mtam 


AT  CnVRCH. 


93 


Jack  was  inclined  to  fall  a  little  behind  her 
along  the  street,  for  two  very  good  reasons.  He 
felt  certain  she  must  be  ashamed  to  be  seen  with 
him,  and  then  he  was  a  trifle  ashamed  to  be  seen 
with  her  by  any  of  his  friends  who  might  be  out 
for  a  saunter.  Mrs.  Kent  humored  him,  but  when 
they  got  to  the  church  door  she  waited  for  him. 
Jack  knew  the  church  well.  He  had  many  a  time 
hovered  around  outside  to  listen  to  the  singing, 
which  was  hearty  and  voluminous,  and  calculated 
to  attract  even  the  lapsed  street  Arabs.  Fortunately, 
there  was  a  crowd  entering,  a  good  many  of  them 
very  stylish  in  appearance ;  but  Jack's  practised  eye 
saw  that  Mrs.  Kent  appeared  as  much  a  lady  as 
the  best  of  them;  and  with  a  little  swelling  of 
pride  he  took  off  his  cap  and  boldly  followed  her 
to  her  pew.  A  i«w  eyes  were  turned  with  surprise 
towards  the  strangely  mated  pair;  but  Mrs.  Kent 
was  a  heroine  in  small  matters  as  well  aa  great, 
while  Jack  was  so  inspired  by  the  organ  strains 
that  for  a  while  he  forgot  Bagge  Alley,  his  ill-tem- 
pered step-mother,  and  the  other  ills  of  his  poor 
life.  In  a  comfortable  way  he  grouped  himself  with 
the  rich  bankers,  merchants,  and  professional  men 
in  adjacent  pews,  although  he  had  not  a  cent  to 


94 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


put  on  the  plate.  But  lie  had  what  aome  of  the 
silver-haired  men  about  him  would  have  given 
thousands  to  possess :  —  youth,  perfect  health,  and  a 
keen  appreciation  of  whatever  good  things  came  in 
his  way,  that  made  life  almost  a  rapture  in  favor- 
able moments.  With  these,  and  a  wise  friend  like 
Mrs.  Kent,  and  a  foothold  under  the  flag  of  free- 
dom, the  possibilities  for  him,  lying  between  the 
present  time  and  three-score  years,  might  be  sur- 
prising. 

The  sermon,  the  first  he  ever  listened  to,  was  a 
source  of  wonder  to  him.  To  see  one  naan  do  all 
the  talking,  and  that  in  such  a  fearless  way,  struck 
him  as  peculiar.  He  easily  recognized  preachers  on 
the  street  by  their  garb  partly,  and  also  by  that  inde- 
scribable air  which  the  dullest  may  observe  and 
the  cleverest  fail  to  satisfactorily  explain;  but 
hitherto  he  had  a  very  indistinct  idea  as  to  the 
work  they  performed.  A  thrill  went  through  him 
as  he  thought  of  Mrs.  Kent's  remark.  If  only  he 
could  stand  one  day  before  a  mass  of  human  be- 
ings and  talk  so  fearlessly  to  them,  how  proud  he 
would  be !  He  grew  so  absorbed  in  these  pleasing 
reflections  that  he  paid  no  attention  to  the  minis- 
ter's words,  only  conscious  of  a  musical,  well  modu- 


mi-.,. 


ji:^^^V^S'"^*'**!''W^-Ti'*'  ■  ■ 


T 


tat  aome  of  the 
lid  have  given 
ict  health,  and  a 

things  came  in 
apture  in  favor- 
wise  friend  like 
be  flag  of  free- 
ig  betwoen  the 

might  be   sur- 

tened  to,  was  a 
one  man  do  all 
rless  way,  struck 
ted  preachers  on 
Iso  by  that  inde- 
lay  observe  and 
y  explain ;  but 
idea  as  to  the 
nt  through  him 
,rk.  If  only  he 
}  of  human  be- 
,  how  proud  he 
11  these  pleasing 
n  to  the  minis- 
ical,  well  modu- 


li r  CHURCH. 

lated  voice  filling  the  silent  spaces  of  the  great 
church.  Besides,  there  was  so  much  to  look  at 
that  had  a  comforting  effect  on  the  senses.  Beau- 
tiful women  with  uplifted,  reverent  faces,  some  of 
whom  might  have  passed,  with  slightly  altered  at- 
tires, for  Raphael's  or  Michael  Angelo's  angels, 
were  grouped  with  gracious  effect  in  the  subdued 
light.  Aged  women,  too,  with  faces  not  less  an- 
gelic to  the  boy's  pleased  fancy,  were  listening  in- 
tently to  the  minister's  words.  To  him  it  seemed 
exceedingly  fitting  that  they  should  pay  such 
earnest  heed,  since  they  were  so  soon  to  be  sum- 
moned to  that  country  for  which  people  ostensibly 
came  to  church  to  make  ready.  The  sermon  Avas 
short.  The  minister,  an  original  thinker,  believed 
in  condensing  his  thoughts,  and  not  so  fully  to 
explain  his  meanings  as  to  leave  his  hearei's  no 
mental  effort  to  maintain.  At  the  close  he  ex- 
pected the  people  to  do  some  of  the  work  too. 
Without  dismissing  them,  and  with*  scarce  a  dozen 
tired  or  restless  ones  leaving,  the  men  and  women 
took  up  the  service  themselves,  speaking  and  sing- 
ing, with  an  occasional  silent  hush  that  to  Jack 
seemed  more  solemn  than  either.  Mrs.  Kent  was 
one    of    the    last    to    speak.     She    arose    timidly. 


1 . 


•^imm 


"W 


9G 


MILDRED   KENT'S  HERO. 


Jack  could  see  that  she  wtis  quivering,  and  won- 
dered, when  it  was  uucli  a  painful  Uwk,  that  she 
did  80  at  all.  Her  voice  Avtw  low,  but  so  well 
modulated  and  clear  that  jjei-sons  on  the  other  side 
of  the  church  seemed  to  be  listening.  As  for  Jack, 
he  experienced  an  entirely  new  and  strange  sensa- 
tion, that  caused  him  to  wink  very  energetically, 
and  tried  to  swallow  away  a  very  uncomforbible 
lump  in  his  throat;  but  his  utmost  efforts  at  self- 
control  could  not  restrain  the  teai-s,  and  his  pocket 
being  innocent  of  a  handkerchief,  he  Avas  com- 
l)elled  to  let  the  di-ops  fall  unattended  to,  save 
by  an  occasional  dexterous  use  of  his  fingei-s.  On 
their  way  home,  unconscious  that  he  was  making 
use  of  flatteiy,  he  said  very  seriously:^ 

"I  liked  the  preacher  first-rate;  but  you  can 
beat  him  all  holler.  My  step-mother,  no  matter 
how  hai-d  she  might  tiy,  couldn't  make  me  ciy  as 
you  did." 

Mi-s.  Kent  made  no  i-eply.  Such  remarks  were 
as  painful  to  her  aa  they  might  have  been  to  the 
preacher,  had  he  heard  them.  Jack,  however,  pi-o- 
ceeded  with  his  criticism. 

"I  think  you  might  earn  a  lot  of  money  if  you 
were  a  preacher.     Seems  to  me  its  not  hai-dly  fair 


to. 

ering,  ami  won- 
l  iiwk,  that  8lie 
)\v,  but  80  well 
111  the  other  side 
T.  As  for  Jack, 
il  Htrange  senmi- 
iry  enei-getically, 
y  uncomfortable 
t  efforts  at  self- 
),  and  his  pocket 
',  he  Avas  coni- 
.ttended  to,  save 
his  itngei-s.  On 
he  was  making 

sly :  — 

5;  but  you  can 
ither,  no  matter 
make  me  ciy  as 

3h  remarks  were 
lave  been  to  the 
5k,  however,  pi-o- 

of  money  if  you 
\  not  hai-dly  fair 


AT  CnVRCH. 


97 


for  women  not  io  have  a  cliance  too,  Hj)ecially  when 
they  can  do  Iwtter'n  the  men." 

"  The  Salvation  Army  and  Quakeiw  would  suit 
you.  They  make  no  distinction  between  the  sexes ; 
but  it  Avould  take  me  a  long  time  to  believe  Avith 
them.  I  find  it  painful  speaking  a  few  woi-ds. 
To  lead  a  meeting  would  be  tenible." 

"When  it  is  such  hard  work,  Avhat  makes  you 
do  it?" 

"To  answer  your  question  perfectly,  I  must  go 
back  a  great  many  centuries.  Christ  left  the  pres- 
ence and  fellowship  of  the  Father  and  Spirit,  the 
adomtion  of  the  glorious  angels  and  His  very  glo- 
rious throne  in  Heaven  to  die  for  you  and  me. 
If  I  refuse  to  own  Him  as  my  friend  and  Saviour, 
to  recommend  Him  to  othei-s,  is  it  not  selfish, — 
horridly,  wickedly  selfish  on  my  part?" 

"  I  should  say  it  was ;  but  I  never  knew  much 
about  Avhat  you  say.  I  didn't  know  anything  about 
Jesus  Christ,  only  to  swear  by." 

"  Oh,  Jack,  can  it  l)e  possible  that  any  one  in  a 
Christian  land,  as  old  as  you  are,  should  be  so  ig- 
norant?" 

"Who  was  to  tell  me?  Any  way,  there's  lots 
around  that  knows  no  more'n  me." 


Jz 


|g  MILDRED  KKNT'B  HERO. 

As  pliiiiily  lis  iM>88iblo  Mi-s.  Kent  lolicai-sed  the 
old,  (»1(1  story  of  tlie  iniingor  iiiid  cioss,  the 
resunectioii  and  asceiiHinn  into  glory,  iw  they 
stood  under  tlie  ailent  stHn*  ut  her  gate. 

"  There's  lots  of  fellows  who'd  like  to  hear  you  tell 
them  things.  You'd  do  more  good  'n  a  preacher, — 
leastways,  some  pi-eachei-s.  T  never  rightly  know'd, 
what  was  the  good  of  'em  l)efore  to-night." 

Mi-s.  Kent  stood  busily  thinking  over  a  plan 
Jack's  words  suggested. 

"If  we  had  a  room  I  would  meet  all  you  could 
bring  eveiy  Sunday  aftenioon.  That  is  the  only 
time  I  can  really  call  my  own." 

"In  the  summer-time  that  little  house  there  in 
your  gai-don  would  be  prime.  I  could  stop  any 
leaks  that  would  let  in  wet  on  rainy  Sundays." 

"But  the  wanu  weather  won't  last  many  weeks 
longer.     The   first  week   in   September   is   ali-eady 

gone." 

Jack  was  puzzled  for  a  moment,  but  a  happy 
thought  came.  "We  might  hold  our  meetings 
while  the  weather  was  fit.  The  boys  could  learn 
a  lot  by  that  time.  Why,  my  head  feels  fuller  'n 
it  ever  did,  and  I've  only  had  one  Sunday.  Seems 
to  me  in  a  few  weeks  I  could  preach  myself,  if  I 


1 


^^^"^•.i^di^i,  !,.;^.jiiiai-'. 'ii. 


• 


veliciii'Med  the 
lid  cruHH,  tliu 
floiy,  iw  they 
^te. 

to  hear  you  tell 
11  a  preacher, — • 
•iglitly  know'd, 
•night." 
'   over    a    plan 

i  all  you  could 
at   is  the  only 

house   there  in 
ould   stop   any 
y  Sundays." 
it   many  weeks 
iber   is   already 

,  but  a  happy 
our    meetings 

tys  could  learn 
feels  fuller  'n 

(unday.     Seems 

,ch  myself,  if  I 


AT  CnVRCH. 


M 


kept  right  on."  He  spoke  with  a  confidence  that 
was  convincing  to  himself,  although  Mi-s.  Kent 
smiled  under  cover  of  the  night.  She  appointed 
another  consultation  with  Jack,  and  then  said  good- 
night. Jack  watched  until  he  saw  her  light  shin- 
ing brightly,  and  then  with  a  quite  strange  and 
new  feeling  of  unrest  and  growth,  lie  turned  his 
face  homewaitl,  never  befoi-e  feeling  quite  such  a 
dislike  for  the  untidy  house  and  brawling  step- 
mother, and  wondeiing  why  lie  could  not  have 
been  sent  to  Mi's.  Kent  for  mother  love  and  care. 
Surely  a  fellow  with  such  slim  chances  could  not 
be  expected  to  do  as  well  as  one  like  Paul  Kent 
or  that  Everett  lad,  he  mused  a  little  suUeniy. 
He  slipped  into  the  Carver  tenement  very  quietly, 
and  so  much  earlier  than  usual  that  his  step-moth- 
er inquirad  if  lie  had  been  cliased  by  the  police. 
He  assured  her  veiy  civilly  that  he  had  not  been 
in  any  such  danger,  and  then  hastened  to  the  bunk 
filled  with  straw  that  formed  his  couch. 


')!!  11 


p^ 


^^im:- 


-^.i--i^nWWi.tiHniyi.t«»WlW'*"'r'''*-'** 


i 


CHAPTER   X. 


THE   MISSION-SCHOOL. 


ITH  her  intense,  studious  nature,  Mildred 
graducally  became  so  absorbed  in  her 
studies  and  the  new  world  of  unexplored 
mystery  opening  before  her,  that  the  old,  childish 
fancies  grew  dim.  She  soon  became  a  favorite  with 
the  teachers.  Trained  to  obedience  from  babyhood, 
she  gave  no  trouble  by  the  insubordination  that 
chai-acterized  most  of  the  pupils,  while  the  eager- 
ness with  which  she  plunged  into  her  studies 
needed  rather  to  be  restrained  than  incited,  as  was  us- 
ually the  case.  The  work  most  congenial  of  all  was 
the  di-awing-lesson,  given  three  times  a  week  by  a 
very  competent  lady  te^elier.  After  she  had  got 
well  fitted  out  with  materials    *o  work  with,   and 

100  :-      V  .>-;i.     ■ 


lature,  Mildred 
lorbed  in  her 
I  of  unexplored 
e  old,  childish 
a  favorite  with 
from  babyhood, 
irdination  that 
lile  the  eager- 
o  her  studies 
ited,  as  was  us- 
nial  of  all  was 
s  a  week  by  a 
r  she  had  got 
ork  with,   and 


THE  MlSaiON'SCHOOL. 


101 


obtained  some  knowledge  of  lines  and  shading,  she 
soon  became  famous  in  the  class  for  her  freehand 
sketches  of  faces  and  figures.  Before  her  first  year 
at  the  school  was  completed,  she  had  so  far  ad- 
vanced in  the  art  as  to  earn  a  few  cents  now  and 
then  from  her  schoolmates,  who  were  very  eager  to 
sit  for  their  portraits,  after  first  arranging  very 
particularly  as  to  the  size  of  the  picture,  the  price, 
and  the  pose  of  the  figure.  Beth  and  Connie  consti- 
tuted themselves  her  agents,  usually,  in  fixing  the 
price.  She  had  first  painted  Connie,  making  a 
highly  idealized  portrait,  and  giving  her  an  expres- 
sion far  more  ftpirituelle  than  the  poor  child  could 
ever  expect  to  attain,  unless  it  might  be  after  the 
resurrection.  When  Beth's  was  completed,  her 
father  was  so  pleased  with  it  that  he  had  it  framed 
and  hung  in  his  own  room,  but  only  sent  the  poor 
little  artist  a  crumpled  dollar-bill  in  payment. 
But  as  this  was  about  ten  times  her  usual  price, 
fifty  millions  added  to  Vanderbilt's  huge  pile  would 
scarcely  give  him  the  keen,  tingling  ecstacy  Mil- 
dred felt  as  she  folded  it  ui  her  hand,  and  then, 
for  greater  security,  tied  it  in  a  corner  of  her 
pocket-handkerchief.  All  through  the  tiresome 
school-hours  she  kept  forgetting  her  lessons,  as  she 


102 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


planned  how  it  was  to  be  spent.  But  as  she 
walked  home  from  school,  she  finally  decided  to 
give  it  to  her  mother  without  reservation.  It 
would  be  the  first-fruita  of  her  labors,  like  the 
fiiwt-f  ruits  of  the  soil  among  her  ancient  Israelitish  he- 
roes, which  were  given  direct  to  God.  She  grieved  to 
think  the  possibility  for  such  offerings  had  passed 
away  with  that  long-vanished  dispensation.  As  she 
talked  the  matter  over  with  her  mother,  however, 
she  discovered  that  our  privileges  in  that  respect 
were  never  gi-eater  in  any  age  of  the  world  than 
the  present. 

"  Shall  I  give  it  to  the  mission-school  then  ?  It 
would  buy  a  great  many  tracts." 

"  We  have  more  tracts  now  than  we  can  get 
readers  for.  They  are  so  cheap  every  one  seems 
anxious  to  provide  them." 

"What  shall  I  buy  with  it  then?"  Mildred 
jwked,  in  a  worried  sort  of  way.  Already  she  was 
beginning  to  realize  the  perplexities  wealth  brings. 

"You  need  not  be  in  a  hurry  to  spend  it.  The 
right  way  will  present  itself  if  we  wait  patiently." 

"But  I  want  it  to  l)e  doing  good  now.  Some 
one  that  it  might  help  to  be  good  may  die  if  we 
wait  long." 


JLI. 


f^!'tm^m»mas)>^> 


ESS 


But  as  she 
[ly  decided  to 
Bservation.  It 
bore,  like  the 
t  Israelitish  he- 
She  grieved  to 
^  had  passed 
ation.  As  she 
ther,  however, 
a  that  respect 
lie  world  than 

ool  then  ?     It 

I  we  can  get 
ery  one  seems 

3n?"  Mildred 
Iready  she  was 
wealth  brings, 
spend  it.  The 
rait  patiently." 
d  now.  Some 
may  die   if  we 


m»^ 


THE  MISSION-SCHOOL. 


108 


"I  wish  all  Christian  capitalists  were  as  eager 
as  you  to  have  their  dollars  consecrated.  I  would 
not  be  obliged  so  frequently  to  look  at  the  pinched 
faces  and  half-clad  bodies  of  my  mission-class; 
neither  would  our  poor  earth  carry  such  a  load  of 
sin  and  misery  on  its  pathway  amid  the  suns  and 
galaxies,  —  perhaps  the  only  sin-curaed  orb  among 
them  all."  The  mother  looked  out  wearily  toward 
the  dimming  sky,  where  Jupiter  and  his  brothere 
and  sistere  were  taking  their  places  in  the  far 
depths  of  space.  Her  efforts  to  help  Jack  Carver 
had  i-esulted  in  a  wider  scheme  than  she  had  an- 
ticipated. The  summer-house  had  firat  been  used  as 
a  place  of  meeting.  Only  one  lad  ventured  with 
Jack  at  first.  He  was  surprised  at  his  lack  of 
success  in  getting  them  to  come ;  but  when  there 
were  two  to  go  together  among  their  comrades  and 
tell  how  interesting  the  school  was,  and  what  a  kind 
teacher  they  had,  a  few  smaller  lads  came  drop-* 
ping  in  to  see  for  themselves;  and  by-«nd-by  the 
girls  came  too ;  so  that  before  very  long  the  sum- 
mer-house became  not  only  too  chilly,  but  too  small 
to  seat  them  comfortably.  Mildred  very  plaintive- 
ly confided  to  her  friend,  the  rector  of  St.  Mala- 
chi's,  the  strait  they  were  in,  at  one  of  their  week- 


w/^ 


it:. 


104 


MILDRED  KENT'S    HERO. 


ly  hand-«liakings,  when  he  eagerly  asked  her  all 
about  it,  and  then  i)romised  to  call  and  talk  the 
matter  over  with  her  mother. 

"  But  you  see,  mamma,"  she  explained  ruefully, 
"it  is  not  likely  he  will  ever  think  of  it  agpiin. 
You  know  he  promised  to  get  me  aflfinned  and  has 
never  done  it." 

"  You  mean  confirmed." 

"  Well,  it  was  some  such  woixl ;  I  really  could 
not   see   any   sense   in   it." 

"  But  this  is  much  more  important  than  Con- 
firmation, and  you  can  speak  to  him  about  it 
again   next  Sunday." 

Mildred  was  saved  the  task,  for  on  Monday  after- 
noon the  gentle  rector  came  knocking  at  Mre. 
Kent's  door.  They  had  a  long  convei-sation ;  for 
a  time  Mr.  Felton  forgot  his  dislike  of  listening 
to  Avomen's  advice  in  mattei:s  pai-ochial,  while 
Mrs.  Kent,  still  holding  her  work  in  her  hand, 
and  sewing  diligently,  told  him  of  her  mission- 
class,  and  how  it  had  grown  from  a  solitary  lad 
to  a  score  of  boys  and  girls,  with  immortal  souls, 
but  possessed  of  nothing  else  worth  mentioning. 
How  they  had  come  through  min  and  cold  from 
Sunday  to  Sunday,  like  so  many  hungry  lambs 
to  be  fed. 


iiskecl  her  nil 
and  tiilk  tlie 

ined  ruefully, 
;  of  it  agfiiiu. 
imed  and  has 


really  could 

nt   than   Con- 
lim    about    it 

Monday  after- 
ing  at  Mi-8. 
vei-sation ;  for 
>  of  listening 
ochial,  while 
in  her  hand, 
her  mission- 
a  solitary  lad 
ininortal  souls, 
ii  mentioning, 
nd  cold  from 
hungry   lambs 


THE  MISSIOy-SCIIOOL 


"My  heart  aches  often  while  I  talk  to  them," 
she  i-emarked  sadly,  "of  Christ  and  Heaven  and 
the  l)eautiful  life  those  have  wlio  reach  there;  for 
many  of  them  can  scarcely  undei-sfcuid  the  mean- 
ing of  joy  and  beauty,  their  lives  lu-e  so  cramijed 
and  wretched." 

"Do  you  have  rewawls  for  them  in  the  shape  of 
pictures  or  stoiy-books  ?  " 

"I  cannot  afford  anything  of  the  kind;  Ixjsides, 
they  do  not  expect  it.  They  do  not  need  to  be 
hired  to  come,"  she  said  with  a  smile. 

Mr.  Felton  looked  at  her  with  much  wonder  and 
considemble  admiration.  His  experience  with  chil- 
dren in  mission-schools  was  not  so  satisfactoiy.  He 
had  found  it  difficult  to  keep  them  with  such  re- 
wards as  pictures  and  cards  and  unlimited  supplies 
of  cheap  reading-matter,  nothing  shoit  of  monthly 
teas  and  country  excui-sions  really  keeping  them 
true  to  the  school. 

He  said  at  hvst :  "  St.  Malachi's  is  a  small  con- 
giegiition,  but  we  have  a  number  of  peraons  pos- 
sessed of  considerable  means.  If  we  can  get  them 
interested  in  your  school  it  would  be  an  excellent 
thing;  but  I  am  not  clever  at  getting  to  their 
jmckets.     I  would   mther   give    the    money   myself 


liiiiM 


100 


MILDRFJ)  KENT'S  HERO. 


when  I  have  it,  than  appeal  to  my  iMiiishioiiei-s  for 
aid."     He  looked  down  rather  helplessly  at  his  thin, 
folded  hands,  while  his  face,  so  refined  and  gentle, 
impressed   Mm.    Kent   as   strangely  pathetic   in  re- 
pose.     While  speaking,  his  hazel   eyes  grew  lumi- 
nous   and  his  whole    expression    hecame    animated. 
She  could  easil}-  recognize  in  him  a  shrinking,  sen- 
sitive   soul,  ill  fitted   to    endui-e    the    roughness    of 
life.      She  saw  that  he  was  unpractical,  but  eager 
to   serve   his    genei-ation;   and    though    sorely  dis- 
couraged  by   his  failures   and  shattei-ed   ideah*,   he 
was   not  willing  to  give  up   tiying.     Sitting  there 
in  the  prolonged  silence  that  seemed  quit*  natural, 
she  thought  over  again  the  mixed  pi-oblems  of  life ; 
some   alwap   on   the  crest  of    the    billows,   trium- 
phantly  looking   down   on   their    fellows   buffeting 
with  the  ground-swell  or  caught  with  the  outgoing 
tide.     If   the  successes  could  only  be  a  little  more 
equalized,  or  if   one's  fellows  were  not  so  eager  to 
cheer  the  one  throned  on  the  ci-est  of  the  wave  and 
look  with  pitying  contempt  on  those  wi-estling  with 
the  hreakei-s  or  caught  in  the  undertow.     But  she 
grew   happier   as   she  reflected   that   the  only  One 
who  compi«liends  all  the   perplexed  meanings   will 
lit  last  distribute  the  rewai-ds  that  endui-e  eternally. 


^mmm 


?gft>. 


[jarishioiieiw  for 
asly  at  liis  thin, 
led  and  gentle, 
pathetic  in  re- 
yes  grew  lumi- 
!ame    animated. 

shrinking,  sen- 
!  roughness  ctf 
tical,  but  eager 
igh  sorely  dis- 
ei-ed  ideals,  he 
Sitting  thei-e 
d  quit*  natui-al, 
•oblenis  of  life ; 

billows,  triuni- 
iUows  buffeting 
th  the  outgoing 
1)6  a  little  moi-e 
not  so  eagfer  to 
)f  the  wave  and 
e  wi-estling  with 
ertow.  But  she 
b  the  only  One 
[  meanings  will 
jndui-e  eternally. 


Tf/JS  .v/ss/ox-scnooL. 


107 


Mr.  Felton's  brown  study  was  so  profound  that  he 
was  sttvrtled  at  last  by  Mra.  Kent's  veiy  pmctical 
remark :  "  We  do  not  need  money  or  anything 
else  very  much,  except  a  few  cheap  bibles  and 
some  pictui-e-papei-s ;  but  what  we  must  have,  if  we 
continue  the  class,  is  a  room  eatiily  wai-med  and 
with  a  few  seats." 

"  Really,  is  that  all  ?  Why  the  school-room  of 
St.  Malachi's  will  1)6  a  capital  place.  ]\Ia}'l)e  we 
coidd  get  the  jjoor  things  to  conic  to  chui-ch. 
Twenty  of  them  would  swell  our  congregtvtion 
finely."  The  folded  liands  clasped  each  other  more 
tiglitl}',  as  if  congmtulating  each  other. 

"  I  will  stipulate  with  them  that  their  atteiulrtnce 
at  school  will  be  conditional  on  being  at  church 
once  on  the  Sabbath,  in  return  for  your  goodness 
in  pi-oviding  a  i^oom.  Mildred  has  described  your 
chui-ch  very  minutely,  and  fi-om  her  I  liave  learned 
that  there  was  a  lai-ge  galleiy  with  scarcely  any 
one  occupying  it.     Tliey  might  sit  there." 

"  I  wish  I  had  you  for  a  vestry-man,"  the  gentle 
pi-eacher  said,  with  much  enthusiasm.  "I  think  I 
could  get  my  church  filled." 

Mi-s.  Kent's  face,  as  a  rule,  did  not  brighten  at 
compliments ;  for  she  scarcely  had  a  woman's  usual 


i- 


108 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


fondness  for  such  cheap  cun-ency.  But  just  now, 
ii  ripple  of  fun,  like  sunlight  over  a  field  of  flowei-s, 
IMissed  over  her  eyes  and  lips.  "What  would  Mr. 
Fel ton's  vestry-nifH  siiy  if  they  should  hear  their 
rector's  remark  ?" 

Before  he  took  his  leave  all  the  arrangements 
were  made  for  the  change  of  school-rooms ;  and  as 
he  wended  his  way  to  his  lodging,  the  gfood  man 
felt  richer  by  at  least  a  score  of  additional  hearers. 
Mi-s.  Kent,  with  Jack  Carver's  help,  announced  to 
tlie  childi-en  the  change  of  school-rooms,  while  the 
foiTOer  waited  with  some  anxiety  to  see  if  they 
would  flock  as  eagerly  to  the  chui-ch  as  to  her 
summer-house.  When  the  hour  came  on  the  Sab- 
bath afternoon,  she  was  promptly  on  the  spot ;  but 
Mr.  Felton  was  before  her.  In  gown  and  bands 
he  was  standing  at  the  vestiy  door,  waiting  with 
beaming  countenance  to  welcome  teacher  and 
children. 

"I  have  caught  a  glimpse,  now  and  then,  of  a 
cliild;  but  they  vanish  mysteriously  before  I  can 
speak  to  them,"  he  said,  shading  his  near-sighted 
eyes  witli  his  hands. 

Mra.  Kent  peeped  out  also  just  in  time  to  see 
Jack  Carver  dodge  behind  a  tombstone,  wliile  one 


But  just  noWf 
field  of  flowei-s, 
'hat  would  Mr. 
uld   hear   their 

a  arrangements 
[-rooms ;  and  as 
,  the  gfood  man 
ditional  hearera. 
>,  announced  to 
ooms,  while  the 
to  see  if  they 
i-ch  as  to  her 
le  on  the  Sab- 
1  the  spot;  but 
own  and  bands 
»r,  Avaiting  with 
)     teacher    and 

and  then,  of  a 
ly  before  I  can 
[lis   near-sighted 

in  time  to  see 
itone,  wliile  one 


THE  MiaaiON-aCHOOL. 


109 


or  two  others  scuttled  out  of  sight  behind  a  huge 
monument  that  served  excellently  for  a  game  of 
hide  and  seek,  and  from  which  they  seemed  to  be 
watching  the  worthy  rector  on  the  sly. 

"I  think  I  would  get  them  to  come  in  if  you 
would  go  inside  for  a  few  moments.  They  feel  a 
little  shy,  probably." 

Mr.  Felton  immediately  withdrew,  while  Mw. 
Kent  went  out  to  reconnoiti-e. 

"Come  hei-e.  Jack,"  she  called,  when  Jack  in- 
cautiously put  his  head  out  of  range  of  his  tomb- 
stone. Seeing  she  was  alone,  he  boldly  stepped  out, 
followed  from  one  grave-shelter  after  another  by 
nearly  her  whole  flock. 

"Why  were  you  hiding?"  she  asked. 

"  We  saw  that  gi-eat  big  body  in  thei-e,  and  wei-en't 
suie  if  'twas  a  man  or  what.  Jack  tho?.  we'd 
best  wait  till  you  came." 

"Why  Jack!  sui-ely  you  Avere  not  afraid." 

Jack's  face  flushed  and  his  eyes  fell,  but  he 
made  no  reply.  The  truth  was,  all  the  street  vaga- 
bondage had  not  slipped  from  him  yet,  and  he 
thought  it  a  good  lark  to  frighten  the  children  and 
bother  the  rector.  The  scattered  flock  were  soon 
all  gatliered  at  the  vestry-door  save  one. 


i.^lUffiMUi"! 


no 


MILDRKn    KENT'S   HERO. 


"Betsy  Jones  is  out  in  the  street  and  says  she 
ain't  coming  in,"  Jack  informed  Mi-s.  Kent  just  l)e- 
fore  they  entered. 

"  What  is  the  reason  ?  " 

"  Her  folks  don't  want  her  to  come  among  the 
*  Piscopals.' " 

Mi-s.  Kent  went  to  wliere  the  girl  was  i)eeping 
rather  curiously  at  them  through  the  fence. 

"Why  don't  you  come  in  with  us?"  she 
asked. 

"  Father  don't  hold  to  sprinklin'  babies,  and  they 
do  that  in   there." 

"You  will  do  worae  things  than  tliat  if  you 
stay  on  the  street  as  your  custom  has  been.  Be- 
sides we  do  not  intend  baptizing  any  of  the  mission- 
class.     That  is  not  what  we  meet  for." 

"  I  don't  care.  Father  says  its  papist  work  any- 
way, and  he'd  mther  not  have  me  mix  up  with  such." 
She  gave  her  head  a  disdainful  toss.  But  Mi-s.  Kent, 
although  provoked,  felt  sony  for  the  poor,  igno- 
rant girl,  whose  training  at  home  was  woi-se  even 
than  what  she  got  on  the  street.  She  was  quick 
to  learn,  bold  and  self-reliant,  with  unlimited  con- 
fidence ui  her  iivnx  ability.  Possessed  of  a  sti'ong 
voice   and  connect   ear,  she   often  led  the  singing, 


mam 


and  sayH  she 
Kent  just  he- 


ne  among  the 

I  wa8  peeping 

B  fence. 

th    us?"     she 

abies,  and  they 

n  tliat  if  you 
has  been.  Be- 
ef the  mission- 
for." 

ipist  work  any- 

up  with  such." 

But  Mi-s.  Kent, 

the  poor,  igno- 

ras  woi-se  even 

She  was  quick 

unlimited  con- 

led  of  a  sti'ong 

3d  the  singing. 


tmi^^k^iZ 


THE  .VISSlOy-SCHOOL. 


Ill 


and  was,  in  fact,  the  ruling  spiiit  in  the  school. 
There  was,  just  now,  on  her  round,  plump  face  a 
mixed  expi-ession.  She  enjoyed  the  influence  she 
had  gained  over  her  classmates,  and  had  a  nat- 
ural regi-et  at  losing  her  power ;  but  there  was 
also  satisfaction  in  acting  spitefully ;  for  with  all 
her  cleverness,  this  was  her  ruling  characteristic. 
Her  small  nose,  looking  smaller  still  on  her  large, 
round  face,  was  turning  up  disdainfully,  and  the 
deep  blue  eyes  were  snapping  venomously,  as  she 
stood  waiting  for  Mra.  Kent  to  speak.  Repressing 
the  desire  to  reprove  her  sharply  and  send  her 
home,  she  leaned  over  the  fence,  laying  her  hand 
tenderly  on  the  gii'l's  cheek.  "  I  am  sony  to  lose 
you,  Betsy,  for  your  own  sake.  If  you  go  home  and 
tell  your  father  that  I  teach  you  nothing  but  wliat 
every  branch  of  the  Protestant  church,  no  matter 
how  bigfoted  they  may  be,  fully  believes,  he  may  give 
his  consent  for  you  to  come  back." 

I'll  come  if  he's  willing  oi  not,  if  I  want  to," 
she  said,  in  a  quite  subdued  way. 

"You  must  go  home  firat  and  get  his  consent 
before  I  can  allow  you  to  come  in,"  Mm.  Kent 
said  firmly. 

Betsy  gave  her  head  another  toss,  and  started  up 


'§ 


m 


ill 

t  r;;|.: 


112 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO 


the  Htreet  for  their  alley  at  a  steady  trot.  She 
couhl  rule  her  father  easily,  and  would  soon  com- 
jiel  his  consent ;  hut  some  time  ago  she  found  that 
Mi'M.  Kent  was  quite  beyond  her  control.  Turning 
back  to  the  church,  Mi-s.  Kent  led  the  children 
through  to  the  school-room.  At  considerable  ex- 
pense and  much  pereonal  labor,  the  rector  luvd 
done  his  \ie»t  to  make  it  attmctive  to  the  children ; 
and  his  efforts  were  fully  appreciated. 

♦'  My,  but  isn't  this  a  jolly  place  I "  Jack  said 
admiringly,  as  he  dropped  into  a  cushioned  seat 
and  rolled  his  eyes  around  at  the  bright  pictures 
on  the  walls,  and  sweet-smelling  flowers  in  gener- 
ous bouquet*  on  the  cabinetK)rgan,  stand,  and  va- 
rious other  spots. 

"I  wish  they'd  keep  us  till  supper-time,"  one 
blue,  hungry-looking  little  fellow  said. 

"I'd  like  to  stay  always  if  they'd  give  us  vic- 
tuals and  a  bed,"  another  responded  heartily. 

"Our  house  smokes  fearful.  I  wonder  if  they'd 
let  me  come  here  and  stay  when  I'm  not  selling 
papei-s,  it's  so  warm,"  another,  with  red  eyes  and 
smoky  appearance  generally,  said  wistfully. 

"You  bet  they  won't!  Churches  ain't  lodging, 
houses,"  was  the  quick  reply  from  another. 


idy  trot.  She 
uld  Hoon  com- 
4he  found  that 
trol.  Turning 
the  children 
nsideml)lo  ex- 
le  rector  hivd 
a  the  children ; 
I. 

B I "  Jack  said 
iUHhioned  seat 
bright  pictures 
wer8  in  gener- 
stand,  and  va- 

jper-time,"  one 

d. 

i   give  us  vie- 
heartily. 

jnder  if  they'd 

['m  not  selling 
red  eyes  and 

jtfuUy. 
ain't   lodgingf" 

mother. 


THK  MiaSION-aCHOOL. 


113 


"I  wish  they  was.  What's  the  use  of  having 
thenj  shut  u{)  all  the  week  doing  nobody  any 
good,  and  us  living  in  the  smoke,  like  so  many 
herrings." 

Jack  Carver,  who  had  l)een  listening  to  the  con- 
vei-sation,   tliought   the   Iwy's  argument    was    quite 
i-eivsoimbie.     The   fitness   of  things  was  still  dimly 
perce[)tible    to   his  untutored  mind.     But  after  all, 
were  not  human  beings  letter  than  brick  and  wood 
and  cushioned  seats?     He  grew  alworbed  over  one 
of  tliese  perplexing  problems  that  older  and  wiser 
heads   have    found    too   difficult   to  solve,  and  was 
only  recalled   to   present  surroundings   by  the  deli- 
cious strains  Mrs.  Kent  was  drawing  from   the  or- 
givn,   and    the   majestic    apjieamnce   of   Mr.  Felton 
sailing   down   upon   them    in   priestly   robes.     The 
smaller  children  Iboked  frightened,  and  were  glanc- 
ing toward  the  open  door;  but   Mrs.  Kent    turned 
around    reassuringly,    and    beckoned   them   to    her 
side.     Jack  led  the  way,  and  presently  a   score  of 
voices  —  scne    sweetly   harmonious,  others   equally 
discordant  — were  singing  the  hymn  of  praise.     Mr. 
Felton,  ^vith   a  most  peaceful    face,   was    listening 
near,    while  visions    of    white-robed    catechumens 
kneeling  for  the  bishop's  blessing  flitted  before  his 


m 


!W: 


114 


MILDRED  KENT'S   HERO. 


eyes.  Presently  a  round,  rosy  face  waa  flitting  in 
reality  before  his  pensive  gaze,  in  the  door-way. 
Betsy  Jones,  hot  and  breathless,  had  returned ;  but 
the  priestly-looking  figure,  sitting  with  closed  eyes, 
arrested  her  steps.  But  he  saw  her  presently,  and 
came  towards  her.  She  fled  behind  a  monument, 
leaving  him  standing  in  the  door-way,  perplexed  at 
the  way  the  children  so  mysteriously  disappeared 
at  sight  of  him.  He  reflected  with  much  satisfac- 
tion  that  the  little  Kents  were  always  anxious  to 
be  with  him ;  an.1  h^  resolved  to  reward  their  con- 
fidence,  in  the  future,  with  some  suitable  gift. 

The    school    proceeded  as    usual,    Betsy    Jones 
slipping   into  her   place    when    a    favorable    oppor- 
tunity presented  itself  by  Mr.  Felton  withdrawing 
himself  from  the  vicinity  of  the  door-way.     When 
the  lessons    were   ended,  to  which   the   rector   lis- 
sened  as  attentively  and  even  more  appreciatively 
tlian  the  class,  Mi-s.  Kent  gave  him  the  opportun- 
ity, promised  before,  to   address    them.     But   they 
grew  so  restless,  and  regarded  the  door  so  longing- 
ly, that  he  only  recited  about  one  quarter  of  the 
address  which  he   had   prepared  with   considerable 
cai-e.     He   wondered  why   it  was   they  listened  so 
attentively  to  what  Mrs.  Kent  had  to  say;  it  cer- 


bit;  M'lwuiriifii  If  wiiigfe--'  \y:~ 


BO. 

1  was  flitting  in 
1   the    door-way. 
,d  returned ;  but 
ivith  closed  eyes, 
3r  presently,  and 
[id  a  monument, 
ray,  perplexed  at 
usly  disappeared 
,h  much  satisfac- 
ways  anxious  to 
reward  their  con- 
luitable  gift. 
x\,    Betsy    Jones 
favorable    oppoi^ 
Iton  withdrawing 
loor-way.     When 
ii   the   rector   lis- 
are  appreciatively 
lim  the  opportun- 
them.     But   they 
!  door  80  longing- 
e  quarter  of  the 
with   considerable 
they  listened  so 
,d  to  say;  it  cer- 


THE  MISSION-SCHOOL. 


115 


tainly  was  far  simpler  than  his  address,  but  still  it 
was  more  interesting  to  the  children.  He  decided 
to  pay  strict  heed  to  her  remarks  after  this,  him- 
self,—  possibly  he  might  get  some  useful  hints 
that  would  help  him  in  gaining  the  ear  of  his 
own  flock;  for  what  drew  the  attention  of  chil- 
dren was  pretty  sm-e  to  please  beings  of  a  larger 
growth. 

But  what  his  words  failed  to  do,  the  gift  of  a 
pretty  picture-book  to  each  individual  of  the 
flock,  as  they  filed  past  him  on  their  way  to  the 
door,  did  most  assuredly  do,  and  they  went  to  their 
homes  full  of  the  praises  of  the  kindly  rector  of 
St.  Malachi's. 


\ 


CHAPTER  XI. 


MUBMURINGS. 


RS.  KENT  left  Mildred  at  home  the  fol- 
lowing Sabbath  morning  to  keep  hoiise 
while  she  went  to  St.  Malachi's  to  help 
direct  the  devotions  of  her  flock,  who  had  all 
promised  to  be  there.  With  one  or  two  excep- 
tions they  were  true  to  their  wortl;  even  Betsy 
Jones  so  far  overcoming  her  father's  doctrinal 
scruples  as  to  get  a  grudging  consent  to  come 
with  i;he  rest.  The  usual  worshippers  regarded 
with  much  curiosity  and  considerable  interest  the 
queer-looking  crowd  surve}'ing  the"!!  from  the  gal- 
lery with  equally  curious  stare.  The  refined,  well- 
dressed  lady,  who  held  them  in  such  thorough  con- 
trol, was  the  greatest  surprise  of   all.     Mr.  Felton 


116 


home  the  fol- 
io keep  house 
ilachi's  to  help 
who  had  all 
or  two  excep- 
d ;  even  Betsy 
her's  doctrinal 
nsent  to  come 
ppers  regarded 
>le  interest  the 
1  from  the  gal- 
e  refined,  well- 
L  thorough  con- 
U.    Mr.  Felton 


MURHURINOa. 


117 


had  provided  an  abundance  of  prayer-books ;  but 
Mi-8.   Kent    was    not    too   well   posted   herself   in 
finding  the  places,  so  that  the  whole  service,  save 
the  sermon,  was  a  bewildered  hurrying  over  leaves 
on  the  part  of  those  who  could  read,  to   find   the 
right  place.     Jack  Carver   ensconced  himself   in  a 
corner  and  read  serenely  on,  wisely  reflecting  that 
one  part  must  be  as  good  as  another,  relaxing  his 
attention  at  intervals  to  watch  his  companions'  ex- 
cited  chase,  or  calmly  surveying  the   worahippeis 
below,  who  seemed  to  have  a  thorough  understand- 
ing of  tlie  book,  and  were  making  devout  responses 
as   the  preacher  read  over  the  prayers.    Jack  con- 
cluded they  must  be  an  extra  good   lot  of  Chii*. 
tians, — much  superior  to  the  worshippers  at  Grace 
Church,  where  he  was  now  a  regular  attendant.    It 
was  his  custom  there  to  listen  to  the  prayers  with 
his  eyes  open  to  see  what  was  going  on.      He  us- 
ually   saw   many  others  similarly   engaged.     The 
sei-mon  was  short,  but  still  long  enough  to  satisfy 
the  restless  crowd  of  waifs  not  accustomed  to  self- 
control  or  inaction. 

Mrs.  Kent  continued  coming  for  a  few  Sundays, 
and  then  exacting  a  promise  of  good  behavior 
from  each  of  them  she  allowed  Mildred  and  Paul 
to  go  in  her  stead. 


j^iU, 


■ 


118 


MILDRED   KENT'S   HERO. 


The  mission-children  were   overcoming  the  mys- 
teries of   the  prayer-book,  and   their  eagerness    to 
make    the  responses    kept   them   so    busy    diuing 
that  part  of    the  service,  that  they  behaved  with 
considerable   propriety.     And  so  the   Sundays  had 
gone    around    until    ChristmaK.      No  mention  luid 
been  made  of  rewards ;  but  some  of  the   children 
nevertheless  expected  the  kind-hearted  rector  would 
specially  remember  them   then.      As  he  had  some- 
thing  for    them    now    every    Sunday,    siu-ely    at 
Christmas  time  the  present  would  be  different  both 
in    kind    and    degree.      They    sincerely    hoped   it 
might  not  be  something  to  read,  as  they  reckoned 
their   minds  were    getting   better  fed  of  late  than 
their  bodies.     Usually  they  were  on  hand  before 
either  Mr.  Felton  or  their  teacher ;  the  school-room 
was    beautifully   warm    and   inviting,    while   there 
were  always   fresh   flowers  —  of  late   mostly   those 
which  liad  little  or  no  perfume,  and  rather  desti- 
tute   of  color.      But   green   leaves    alone    had    a 
charm  for  these  flower^tinted  children.     Jack  Cai^ 
ver    felt   too    much  of  a  man   to  express   a  wish 
for  Christmas  gifts;  but  he  was  an  interested  lis- 
tener   while    the    others     discussed     the    subject. 
Betsy  Jones  held  steadily  to  the  concertiuiv,  Tom- 


1 


■M 


A 


"1 


MURMVRWaS. 


119 


ing  the  mys- 
eagerness    to 
busy    diuing 
behaved  with 
Sundays  had 
mention  liad 
the   children 
i  rector  would 
he  had  8ome< 
,y,    surely    at 
different  both 
'ely    hoped   it 
they  reckoned 
I  of  late  than 
I  hand  before 
he  school-room 
[,    while  there 
mostly   those 
I  rather  desti- 
alone    had    a 
en.     Jack  Cai^ 
ixpress   a  wish 
interested  lis- 
the    subject, 
mcertiua,  Tom- 


my Tuffts  to  a  pair  of  long  boots,  and  others  to 
whatever  they  could  get.  The  Sunday  before 
Christmas,  conversation  on  the  matter  reached  a 
climax.  Jack  was  first  at  the  vestry  door.  As 
he  opened  it  and  entered,  the  delicious  woodsy 
smell  of  spruce  and  hemlock  greeted  him,  fes- 
tooned gracefully  from  ceiling  and  window-cornice. 
The  place  looked  a  perfect  bower. 

"  Oh,  my ! "  he  ejiiculated.  Any  stronger  ex- 
pression he  felt  would  be  out  of  place  in  a  church. 
Then  he  seated  himself  comfortably,  to  await  with 
much  satisfaction  the  surprise  of  his  classmates. 
They  came  dropping  in  one  after  another,  and  all 
crowded  around  him. 

"  Guess  if  we  ain't  going  to  have  a  time  after 
all.  S'pose  they'd  go  to  all  this  trouble  jest  for 
Sunday-school  ?  "  Betsy  Jones  remarked  with  great 
complacency. 

"  Maybe  they  won't  give  us  any  other  treat  than 
this,"  one  girl  said  despondently. 

"Well,  if  it  is  all,  I  say  they'd  a  sight  better 
saved  their  strength  and  got  us  something  good  to 
eat.  Poor  folks  can't  be  expected  to  admire  things 
on  an  empty  stomach,"  Betsy  replied  discontentedly. 


■ '  »mm>'  .'"■• 


iU 


120 


MILDRED    KENT'S    HERO. 


"I'd  advise  you  to  take  what  you  can  get  and 
be  thankful.  1  s'pose  they're  not  under  special  ob- 
ligations to  U8  beggare,"  Jack  said  coolly. 

"  What  do  they  coax  us  to  come  here  for  ?  I 
declare  if  some  of  us  haven't  come  every  Sunday 
through  rain  and  shine." 

"  I  expect  you  get  the  benefit  of  it  yourself.  I 
guess  Mrs.  Kent  would  just  as  soon  stay  at  home 
with  them  pretty  little  folks  of  hers  as  come  here 
with  this  crowd.  Then  that  good  old  i^ai-son  heats 
up  his  church  every  Sunday,  and  he's  always  here. 
And  see  the  books  and  cards  lie's  given  us." 

"  I'm  sick  of  cards  and  nosegays.  If  they'd  give 
us  something  useful,  it  'ud  be  a  sight  sensibler." 

"  Well,  Betsy,  all  I  can  say  is,  if  you  are  so  un- 
thankful for  what  you  get  here,  you'd  better  go 
some  place  where  they'd  do  better  by  you." 

"  You  just  shut  up,  Jack  Carver,  I've  as  good  a 
right  here  as  you,  for  all  you're  so  masterful,  and 
put  on  airs  as  if  you  run  the  consarn." 

The  others  stood  around  so  interested  in  their 
grievances  as  reheai'sed  by  Betsy  that  they  neg- 
lected to  be  happy  in  the  beautiful,  wai-m  room. 
The  soft  rustle  of  Mrs.  Kent's  drapery,  as  she 
drew  near,  caught  Jack's  attention,  but  he   made 


MORUVRINOa. 


121 


1  can  get  and 

ler  special  ob- 

>olly. 

here  for?      I 

every  Sunday 

it  yourself.  I 
stay  at  home 
as  come  here 
d  iiai-son  heats 
s  always  here, 
ven  us." 
If  they'd  give 
it  sensibler." 
rou  are  so  un- 
u'd  better  go 
y  you." 

['ve  as  good  a 
raastei-ful,  and 
n. 

ested  in  their 
hat  they  neg- 
[,  wann  room, 
npery,  as  she 
but  he   made 


no  sign.  She  had  expected  to  hear  exclamations 
of  delight,  but  instead  she  heard  the  discontented 
utterances  of  Betsy  Jones  and  the  others.  For  a 
moment  she  was  tempted  to  leave  them  altogether , 
but  a  good  angel  at  her  side,  —  the  same  who 
heljjed  the  old  martyrs  in  centuries  long  since 
dead,  to  fight  for  the  truth  —  held  her,  until  pa- 
tience and  principle  overcame  the  elementary  pas- 
sion of  revenge  at  their  ingratitude.  And  then,  with 
face  nearly  as  unruffled  as  usual,  she  stood  in 
their  midst. 

"I  have  heard  what  you  were  saying,  and  have 
been  tempted  to  leave  you  altogether.  Gould  you 
be  surprised  if  I  did  so?" 

"No  mum,  I  'spect  not,"  a  freckled-faced  urchin 
with  red  hair  and  upturned  nose,  answering  to  the 
well-known  name  of  Billy  Smith,  answered  promptly. 
Mrs.  Kent's  rather  stem  face  relaxed  into  a  genuine 
smile ;  then  turning,  she  laid  her  soft,  ungloved 
hand  on  Jack's  curly  head  and  said :  "  I  am  glad 
there  was  one  to  defend  Mr.  Felton  and  myself. 
We  have,  at  considerable  sacrifice,  tried  to  prepare 
a  nice  Christmas  for  you,  hoping  to  bring  to  your 
mind  more  clearly  the  blessed  Chrislrchild  whose 
birthday  we  celebrate.      How  many  of  you   have 


h 


*^T 


in 


MILDRED   KENT'S  HERO. 


thanked  Mr.  Feltoii  for  hi.s  goodness  to  you?  Or 
do  you  expect  to  i-eceive  all  the  gifts  without  any 
recompense  whatever  ?  " 

Betsy  Jones'  round  eyes  twinkled  as  if  new  ideas 
were  getting  foroed  into  her  pugnacious  head, 
while  the  othere  looked  more  or  less  shamefaced. 

"I  didn't  just  remember  tlie  jMirson,"  Jack  said, 
with  a  look  of  regret,  "but  I've  done  my  best  to 
show  I  hadn't  forgot  what  you've  done  for  me." 
He  twisted  around  to  the  seat  liehind  him  and  tak- 
ing up  a  bi-own  paper  parcel  handed  it  to  Mrs. 
Kent. 

"  Is  this  for  me,  Jack  ?  "  she  said  with  a  good  deal 
of  sui-prise. 

"Yes'm,"  he  responded  with  unusual  bashful- 
ness. 

She  unrolled  the  paper,  standing  there  with 
some  two-score  eyes  watching  her  very  intently. 
Tommy  Tuffts  looking  at  her  crosswise,  his  eyes 
having  an  unfortunate  cast. 

"  What  a  handsome  gift  for  you  to  select,"  she 
said,  with  a  look  of  real  admiration  as  she  folded 
the  pure  Avhite  ^vrap  of  fleecy  wool  about  her 
shouldei-s.     "It  was  just  what  I  needed." 

"I  thought  fii-st  I'd  get  a  book,  but  you  have 


Tl 


to  you?    Or 
without  any 

if  new  itlean 
mciou8  head, 
shamefaced. 
,"  Jack  said, 
e  my  best  to 
lone  for  me." 
[  him  and  tak- 
id  it  to  Mrs. 

)h  a  good  deal 

isual    bashful- 

f  there  with 
very  intently, 
wise,  his  eyes 

X)  select,"  she 
as  she  folded 
}1    about    her 
ded." 
but  you  have 


MVRMVRINOS. 


Its 


such  lots  of  them,  and  they're  not  much  comfort 
once  you've  read  them." 

"  If  I  escape  my  usual  attack  of  bronchitis  this 
winter,  you  shall  get  the  credit  of  it." 

The  young  people  took  their  seats  arotind  the 
oigan  much  more  humbly  than  usual.  They  re- 
alized for  the  first  time  that  the  grace  of  grener- 
osity  was  not  the  exclusive  privilege  of  Mrs.  Kent 
and  Mr.  Felton.  Mrs.  Kent  selected  for  that 
day's  lesson  the  story  of  the  birth  in  Bethlehem ; 
on  the  earthward  side  attended  with  so  little  dis- 
play, but  on  the  heavenly  side  angels  passing  to 
and  fro  in  glorious  and  amazed  delight,  and  a 
strange,  new  star  suddenly  springing  into  its  high 
position  among  sister  worlds  and  suns.  Betsy 
Jones  especially  listened  with  a  look  of  conscious 
self-reproach  on  her  face,  as  Mrs.  Kent  applied 
the  stoiy  of  Cluist's  great  benevolence  and  forget- 
fulness  in  taking,  as  a  lesson  to  men  of  all  ages, 
a  life  of  poverty,  while  enriching  the  human  race 
as  only  God  could. 

'*It  should  teach  us  all,  even  the  youngest," 
Mre.  Kent  continued,  "a  lesson  always  to  be  re- 
membered. He  had  not  where  to  lay  liis  head; 
and  yet,  forgetful  of  his  own  necessities.   He  left 


tL/- 


1S4 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


His  trade  an<l  Hia  mother's  roof,  and  went  up  and 
down  the  liills  of  Jiulea  and  Galilee,  and  even  to 
the  Samaritans,  their  national  enemies,  healing  l)oth 
body  an<l  sotil,  comforting  the  broken-heaited, 
creating  foo<l  for  thousands  of  hungry  ones,  yet 
neglecting  to  do  so  for  himself  during  long  days  and 
weeks  of  fasting  in  desert  solitudes.  Now  I  want 
my  class  to  learn  this  glorious  art  of  forgetting 
self,  and  to  tiy  and  imitate  the  blessed  Jesus. 
Each  of  you  can  do  something  for  others,  and  do 
not  let  your  spirits  get  soured  looking  for  gifts, 
and  repining  if  they  are  not  bestowed.  Rather 
try  to  belong  to  the  world's  givers;  to  be  like 
God  himself,  since  he  so  gi-aciously  invites  us  to 
be  so." 

When  Mr.  Felton  opened  his  book  to  read  the 
closing  pmyer,  a  glance  ai-ound  her  class  assured 
Mrs.  Kent  that  they  had  quite  new  ideas,  and 
would  pi-obibly  the  more  gratefully  receive  the 
announcement  he  would  make  after  the  benedic- 
tion. 

The  puise  after  the  final  amen  was  very  short. 
The  good  man  took  a  childish  delight  in  this 
festival  which,  with  much  cost  of  money  and  Isi- 
bor,  he  had  got  in  readiness  for  his  scrabby-look- 
ing  young  iMirishionere. 


fis  very  short. 

light    in    this 

loney  and  Isv- 

8ci*ubby-look- 


ii 


■■I 


MORMVRINQB. 


Its 


went  up  and 
and  even   to 

healing  Imth 
roken-hearted, 
;ry  ones,  yet 
long  days  and 

Now  I  want 
il  forgetting 
lessed  Jesus, 
ithers,  and  do 
Jig  for  gifts, 
ved.  Rather 
;  to  be  like 
invites   us  to 

c  to  read  the 

class  assured 

nr    ideas,    and 

y  receive   the 

the    benedic- 


" To-morrow  evening,"  he  said,  "we  want  all 
of  you  to  come  to  this  chui-ch  at  five  o'clock  pic- 
cisely.  Eatih  (»f  you  may  bring  a  brotlier  or  sis- 
ter; and  if  tliese  arc  not  iivailable,  get  y(»ur  fa- 
vorite oomjNUiion  to  come.  Now  i-emember,  we 
sluill  be  prepai-ed  for  just  forty  alt<»gether.  There 
will  lie  a  tea,  with  sweet  bread  and  turkey  and 
other  meats  and  good  things  in  abundance;  and 
after  this  a  Chiistmas-tree,  when  we  expect  to 
remember  each  one  of  you." 

The  kindly  face  beamed  on  them  so  pleasant- 
ly that  Tommy  Tuffts,  whose  eight  may  have 
been  defective,  whispered  to  his  companion  next 
him,  "Don't  he  look  like  a  angel?" 

"Angels  hain't  got  no  whiskei-s,"  the  other  re- 
plied contemptuously.  Tommy  was  used  to  having 
his  remarks  so  treated.  Hence  his  pleasure  was 
not  marred. 

Betsy  Jones's  face  was  a  study  just  then,  and 
she  slipped  out  more  humbly  than  ever  before. 


'"J.  ^mmm 


CHAPTER  XII. 


Mil.    FKLTON's  TKA-I'AKTY. 


u 


T  would  be  a  difficult  task  to  descrilw  the 
iMijoyment  that  fell  to  the  lot  of  each  lueiu- 
\m-  of  the  mission-class  at  that  Christmas 
tea-party.  For  the  fiiwt  time  in  their  presence 
Mr.  Felton  walked  about  among  them  in  common 
clothes,  like  any  other  human  being,  carrying  plates 
of  cake  and  sandwiches,  roast  turkey  and  goose, 
with  hot  vegetables  and  other  gooil  things  in  great 
variety  and  abundance;  for  it  was  no  cold  char- 
ity meats  that  he  offered  his  youthful  guests.  He 
had  postponed  his  own  Christmas  dinner  in  oi-der 
to  eat  with  them.  A  good  part  of  the  feminine  force 
of  St.  Malachi's  had  caught,  to  some  extent,  their 
rector's  enthusiasm  in  the  matter,  and  were  present 


MR.   FKLTONa  TEA  PARTY. 


127 


I  descrilw  the 
of  each  mein- 
lat  Christmas 
their  presence 
m  in  common 
carrying  phvtes 
ey  and  goose, 
hings  in  great 
no  cold  char- 
il  guests.  He 
inner  in  oi-der 
feminine  force 
e  extent,  their 
dwere  present 


as  helpers  on  this  notable  occasion.  The  children's 
faces  shone  from  the  combined  effects  of  great 
good  humor,  and  a  plentiful  a})plicaii()u  of  soaj) 
and  water.  Jack  Carver  was  having  the  dullest 
time  of  any.  His  little  steimister,  Adelphine,  was 
in  such  a  hysterical  condition  he  got  very  poor 
satisfaction  out  of  his  slice  of  roast  beef  and  gen- 
erous  helping  of  turkey.  Mi-s.  Kent  saw  his  trouble, 
and  went  to  his  assistance.  Fortifying  hei-self 
first  with  a  red-cheeked  doll,  dressed  in  tnrleton, 
with  pink  ribbons,  she  went  to  her.  Adelphine 
was  pleased  with  it,  and  insisted  on  having  it  in 
her  own  hands. 

"Come  to  me,"  Mrs.  Kent  suid,  "while  Jack 
takes  his  tea,  and  you  shall  liave  the  doUie  to 
take  home."  But  the  sjjoiled  child  wanted  Jack 
and  the  dull  too. 

"I  think  she  would  be  qiiiet  if  she  could  hold 
It  heiwelf.  She  is  generally  crying;  so  I  won't 
mind  that,  if  only  she  wouldn't  scream  so,"  Jack 
said  looking  as  wistfully  at  the  doll  as  Adelphine 
herself.  Mrs.  Kent  did  as  Jack  requested,  and 
handed  over  the  doll  to  Adelphine's  care,  who 
directly  became  so  absorbed  in  examining  into  its 
construction    that   Jack  was    nearly   through    with 


r*^ 


128 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


his  pie  and  cake  when  a   doleful  wail  startled  the 
entire  table. 

"  Her  insides  is  coniin'  out,"  Adelphine  shrieked 
hysterically,  flinging  the  doll  on  Jack's  plate  and 
giving  hei-self  over  to  cries  and  tears.  Jack  tried 
to  hush  her,  his  own  face  crimsonuig  at  the  dis- 
turbance she  was  creating,  and  hastily  swallowing 
the  remainder  of  his  feast  he  picked  her  up  and 
started  for  the  door.  Mi-s.  Kent  followed  him  to 
the  door  with  the  doll,  whose  insides  she  was  se- 
curing. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  she  asked  him. 
"To   take    this   Aveeper   home.     I   thought  she'd 
stop  for  once ;  and  to  please  her  mother  I  brought 
her."        .---  ,    ■     -.V -■    - -^^  . 

"I  want  to  go  home,"  she  cried,  viciously  try- 
ing to  bite  Jack. 

He  cast  a  despairing  glance  at  Mi-s.  Kent.  "It's 
only  her  way;  she  won't  do  any  better  if  I  let 
her  stay." 

Mi's.    Kent   followed  them  out,  and   getting   the 
child's  wi-ajw  assisted  Jack  in  the  difficult  task  of 
getting  her  into  them  and  out  of  the  house. 
"You  will  be  kick  immediately,"  she  asked. 
"  Yes,"    he    responded   briefly,    and    then   disap- 


I  startled  the 

line   shrieked 

v's   plate  and 

.     Jack  tried 

g  at  the  dis- 

y  swallowing 

L  her  up  and 

owed  him   to 

she  was  se- 

d  him. 

-*- 

thought  she'd 

her  I  brought 

viciously  try- 

s.  Kent.    ''It's                   1 

jtter   if   I   let 

i  getting  the 
fficult  task  of 
9  house, 
she  asked. 
I    then   disap- 


MR.   FKLTON'S  TEAPARiY. 


129 


peared  in   the   darkness,    Adelphine  screaming   and 
biting  }is  they  went. 

The  cliildren  were  a  long  time  getting  through; 
the  more  alert  of  them  in  the  act  of  eating  get- 
ting a  little  further  appetite  while  waiting  for  the 
slower  ones,  so  that  it  was  nearly  an  hour  before 
the  last  nut  was  cmcked  and  raisin  swallowed. 
Then  they  i-egarded  the  remaining  good  things,  of 
which  thei-e  was  still  a  plentiful  supply  on  the  table, 
with  a  mixture  of  regret  and  loathing,  ft  was  the 
fu-st  time  with  most  of  them  that  fi-osted  cake  and 
lemon-pie  ceased  to  be  desirable. 

The  tables  were  speedily  cleared,  and  the  i-e 
mainder  of  the  food  arranged  in  forty  separate 
parcels  for  tlie  final  distribution  —  a  last  surprise 
for  the  children. 

After  this  the  ti-ee  was  unveiled,  —  when  the 
tiny  candles  brightly  burning,  rosy  apples,  oranges, 
bags  of  confectionery,  and  other  articles  not  quite 
so  perishable  hanging  there  in  all  their  beauty, 
provoked  an  uncontrolable  exclamation  of  wonder 
and  joy.  Mr.  Felton  would  not  tUcw  the  decep- 
tion of  a  make-believe  Santa  Claus,  and  canied 
around  the  gifts  himself  as  each  child's  name  was 
announced.     To   tiie   latter  it  seemed   as    if   theii* 


/-' 


IT 


ISO 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


\  \ 

\ 


It 


i  '! 
■I 


very  thoughts  hiul  been  iea<l.  Betsy  Jones  got  a 
concertina  —  a  second-hand  ojie,  but  still  with  a 
gi-eat  deal  of  latent  music  stored  away  in  its  lungs ; 
and  Tonnny  Tuffts  a  pair  of  long  boots,  and  the 
othei-s  gifts  that  gave  con-esiK)nding  satisfaction  for 
the  most  put.  The  twenty  invited  guests  received 
each  au  ajjple,  orange,  and  biig  of  confectionery. 
"I  mean  to  come  eveiy  Sunday  after  this,"  was 
the  whispered  assurance  heard  from  every  little 
visitor;  Avhile  Mr.  Felton's  face  beamed  with  in- 
creasing satisfaction  at  the  probable  enlargement 
of  his  flock.  Jack  got  Iwck,  hot  and  breathless, 
befoi-e  his  name  was  called ;  but  as  that  took  place 
twice  before  the  tree  wsis  stripped,  his  satisfaction 
was  doubled.  Both  Mr,  Felton  and  Mi-s.  Kent  had 
renieml)ered  him,  since  but  for  him,  the  mission- 
school  would  probably  not  have  been  started.  Then 
he  had  made  himself  so  useful  in  hunting  up  re- 
cniits  and  conti-oling  the  moi-e  wayward  of  those 
outside  of  the  school  ou  the  Sabbath-day,  that  hb 
was  i-eckoned  nearly  equal  to  themselves.  Mr. 
Felton's  gift  was  a  package  of  second-hand  lx)oks; 
he  had  heai-d  of  Jack's  unusual  thirat  for  book- 
knowledge.  Miy.  Kent  had  improvised  him  a 
handsome  overcoat   from    one    stored    away  in   her 


f  Jones  got  a 
t  still  with  a 
.y  in  its  lungs ; 
boots,  and  tlio 
satisfaction  for 
[ifuests  received 
confectionery, 
fter  this,"  was 
n  every  little 
amed  with  in- 
B  enlargement 
md  breathless, 
that  took  place 
lis  satisfaction 
Mi-s.  Kent  had 
»,  the  mission- 
started.  Then 
lunting  up  re- 
ward of  those 
th-day,  that  he 
mselves.  Mr, 
id-hand  lx)oks; 
lii-st  for  book- 
ovised  him  a 
away  in   her 


in 


MR.  FKLTON'8  TKA  PARTY. 


1S1 


own  clothes-pi-esses.     Betsy  Jones's  face  clouded  for 
an  instant  at  Jack's  double  supply,  but  the  shadow 
soon  vanished   after   they  had  began  singing   their 
Christmas   hymns,  as   she,  foi-getting  to   sing  v/itli 
the  rest,  found  that  now  and  then   with   her  con- 
certina she  could  catch   a    stiny  choixl    of    the    air 
they  sang.     Of  course  she  drew  out  plenty  of  dis- 
cordant straijis;  but  Betsy  was  in  no  wise  discom- 
posed   by  this.     To    find   her   own    enjoyment  was 
the  principal  business   of   her  life.     A   very  thank- 
ful and  satisfied  ci-owd  of  young  creatures  they  all 
were  when  the  last  surprise  of  the  evening  arrived. 
A  neatly  folde<l  and   good-sized   package    of    cakes 
and  cold  fowl  and  beef  was  placed  in  each  willing 
hand  as  they  filed  out  of  the  vestry  door  into  the 
chill  Christmas  air,  with  their  faces   turned   home- 
ward—  so  ending  the  first  really  bright  Christmas 
day  for  the  most  of  them. 


^ 
-# 


s 


„   i 


CHAPTER   XIII. 


A   VEEY   WELCOMK   VISITOR. 


ILDRED'S  dollar  had  found  its  place  in 
lielping  to  buy  Tommy  Tuffts'  boots. 
She  did  not  voice  her  disappointment  in 
seeing  it  so  applied;  but  still  she  could  not  well 
reconcile  fir.st-fvuits  such  as  the  Bible  described 
and  long  boots  for  mgged,  crass-eyed  children. 
But  as  her  mother  accepted  her  offering  and  de- 
cided so  to  spend  it,  Mildred  tiied  to  hope  that 
in  some  mysterious  fashion  God  wculd  accept  it 
as  if  given  to  Himself.  For  the  most  part  her 
holiday  season  h  1  heen  spent  in  taking  care  of 
the  childi-en  and  keeping  house  for  her  mother. 
The  latter  liati  been  so  pressed  with  work  —  lier 
unusual   artistic    taste    in   drapeiies    and   costumes 


A   VERY   WELCOME   VISITOR. 


133 


OB. 

id  it»  place  in 

Tuffts'    boots. 

fippointment  in 

sould    not  well 

(ible    described 

■eyed   childi-en. 

fci-iiig  and  de- 

to  hope   that 

:uld   accept   it 

ittost   part   her 

aking    care   of 

)r  her  motlier. 

\\   Avork  —  lier 

and   costumes 


generally  kept  her  at  that  festive  season  busy,  very 
often,   far   into   the    night,  — while  a   hunied   mo- 
ment was  snatched  whenever  possible    to  help  Mr. 
Felton  and   the  other  workers  at   St.  Malachi's,  in 
getting     the     tea     and     Christmas-tree    ready    for 
the    mission-class.     Beth     and    Connie     sometimes 
came     around    when     no     better    amusement    pi-e- 
sented  itself;  but  tliey,  too,  had  their  engagements 
for  Christmas  parties,  and  their  succeeding  days  of 
ennui  and  headache  as  a  result  of  such  junketings 
and  injudicious  feasting.     Tliey  dimly  realized  that 
an  afternoon  with  the  Kent  children  in  then-  school- 
frocks,  with   a   plain    tea,  was  a  good   deal   pleas- 
anter  to  review  from  the  following  morning's  firat 
awakening   than  a  fancy  party  with   the  rich   food 
and  gay  dresses.     Still,  they   looked   foi-ward   with 
feverish  delight   to    these  parties,  always  expecting 
to  find  the  iiei-fect  happiness  that  had  hitherto  un- 
fortunately  eluded   them.     They    described  to   the 
Kents    how   they  ate   and   played   and    comported 
themselves    £(enerally ;  to    all   bf    which    the   three 
listened  witli   varying  sensations.     Paul,   with   his 
fine  appetite,  decided  that  the  supper-room  was  the 
centre    of    attraction;    Grace    liked    best    to    hear 
about   the   games    and   the   nmsic ;   while   Mildred 


134 


MILnRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


{ 


i 


tried  to  picture  the  beautiful  rooms  and  hrightly 
di'esMed  children  flitting  alx)ut  the  rooms,  amid 
mirroi-s  and  itintures  and  other  interesting  ob- 
jects  geneniUy,  that  Beth  and  Connie  must 
surely  have  looked  upon,  but  seemed  so  incapable 
of  desci-ibing.  They  would  sit  and  listen  quite  as 
attentively  and  with  aa  eager  interest  as  Paul  and 
Grace,  while  Mildred  went  over  that  rare  visit  to 
Giussmere  and  all  she  saw  there,  but  which,  alas, 
had  never  l)een  repeated. 

Douglass  had  gone  off  to  Europe  quite  unex- 
pectedly with  his  mother,  and  had  now  only  just 
returned ;  and  the  hope  was  cherished  that  another 
invitation  might  be  extended  after  his  return  to 
school.  Beth  used  to  Avonder  why  Mildred's  de- 
scription of  that  visit  was  so  much  more  interest- 
ing than  any  that  she  and  Connie  could  give  of 
their  elaborate  parties.  Indeed,  to  sit  and  listen 
Avhile  Mildred  went  over  for  the  hundred  and  fii-st 
time,  how  slie  halted  on  the  stejw  and  stood  fright- 
ened amid  the  gr.vndeur,  the  still  figures  standing 
unclothed  amid  the  fountains  and  flowei-s,  the  row 
on  the  blue  lake,  when  heaven  seemed  so  near, 
Avas  fast  becoming  to  all  of  them  like  Andersen's 
Faiiy   Stories.     But   one    day,  when    the   holidays 


^rmmmmmmmBsmBemsmsmmmsmm* 


A   VERY  WELCOME   VISITOR. 


185 


I  and  hiiifhtlv 
rooms,  amid 
interesting  ob- 
Connie  must 
u  so  incapable 
listen  quite  as 
it  as  Paul  and 
.t  mre  visit  to 
ut  which,  alas, 

e  quite  unex- 
now  only  just 
d  that  another 
his  return  to 
Mildred's  de- 
more  interest- 
could  gfive  of 
sit  and  listen 
ndred  and  fii-st 
d  stood  fright- 
gui-es  standing 
iwex-s,  the  row 
emed  so  near, 
ke  Andersen's 
.    the   holidays 


were  nearly  ended  and  Paul  and  Gi-acie  had  bo- 
come  convinced,  almost,  that  somewhere  they  had 
folded  away  safely  all  sorts  of  precious  things, 
gifts  from  Santa  Glaus,  and  were  actually  having 
a  -most  enjoyable  Christmas-tide  filled  with  merry 
sleigh-rides  and  gmnd  dinners,  and  all  sorts  of  ex- 
quisite things  that  existed  only  in  Mildred's  imag- 
ination, there  came  a  "new  foot  to  the  door." 

The  quaintly  fashioned  sleigh  that  Grace,  with 
amazed  glance,  firet  saw,  and  half  feai-fuUy  looked 
at  long  enough  to  see  the  horae  with  head  tossed 
high  in  air,  glossy  fui-  i-obes,  and  a  man  in  lively 
standing  beside  it,  made  her  race  to  the  kitchen 
with  the  startling  news  for  Mildred    to    come  and 

look  too. 

"He's  come,  Santa  Claus  himself!  His  sleigh  is 
at  the  gate,  and  I  hear  him  knocking  at  the  door," 
she  cried,  in  great  excitement. 

Mildred  looked  alarmed,  and  hesitated  a  moment ; 
then  bravely  nerving  herself  for  the  encounter  with 
man  or  fair)',  or  whoever  it  might  be,  she  went  to  the 
door,  with  the  children  tiptoeing  behind  her  at  a 
safe  distance.  The  snow  was  diifting  down  silently, 
so  that  the  gai-den-path  was  effectually  concealed; 
but  glancing  hastily  through  the  Ai-indow   she   saw 


i- 


186 


MILDRED  KKNT'S  HERO. 


footsteps  in  the  snow.  Her  face  was  pale,  but 
sternly  resolute,  as  she  threw  open  the  door.  Her 
heart  gave  a  sudden,  terrified  pulsation  at  sight  of 
the  snoAvy  figure  robe«l  iij  the  glossy  seal-skin  coat, 
with  the  snow  clinging  to  cap  and  hair.  The  figui-e 
was  standing  with  his  back  to  the  door,  but  turned 
around  directly,  and  doffing  his  cap,  the  handsome, 
boyish  face  of  Douglass  Everett  confronted  her, 
instead  of  the  rubicund  and  not  over  Ixjautiful 
visage  of  St.  Nicholas,  if  his  portraits  are  even  the 
faintest  likenesses  to  himself. 

"  I  am  80  glad  to  see  you,"  she  exclaimed,  with 
a  sudden  lighting  of  the  pale  little  face  and  Avith 
a  vivid  rush  of  blood  over  neck  and  brow. 

"Ybu  looked  so  frightened,  you  must  have  mis- 
taken me  for  a  robber." 

"  Oh,  no !  but  Gracie  saw  your  horses  first,  and 
she  told  me  it  was  Santa  Claus,"  she  responded 
with  all  seriousness.  "  But  won't  you  come  in  ?  " 
Douglass  looked  ruefully  at   his   snqjvy   garments. 

"  If  you  Avill  let  me  come  to  the  kitchen  I  would 
like  to  stay  a  while  Avith  you." 

"We  will  \te  glad  to  have  you  come  in  and  sit 
just  where  you  like,"  she  said,  Avith  a  coi-diality 
that  assured  Douglass  of  his  Avelcome. 


T 


rlAlMM'iilM 


OMMiLSiiilMiiU 


A    VERY   WELCOME   VIBITOR. 


187 


was  pale,  but 
he  door.  Her 
ion  at  sight  of 

seal-fikin  coat, 
ir.  The  figui-e 
•or,  but  turned 

the  handsome, 
onfronted  her, 
over  iKjautiful 
8  are  even  the 

X  claimed,  with 
face  and  Avith 
i  brow. 
Qust  have  mis- 

orses  first,  and 
ihe  responded 
ou  come  in  ?  " 
wy  garments, 
tchen  I  would 

me  in  and  sit 
I    a    coi-diality 

I. 


"  These  little  chaps  may  ttike  me  instead  of 
Santjv  Clans.  I  will  first  go  back  to  the  sleigh 
for  some  things  I  have  there."  He  sprang  down 
through  the  drifted  walk  to  the  gate,  while  the 
children  stood  watching  with  eager,  admiiing  eyes. 

"Is  he  really  Santa  Clans?"  Grace  asked. 

"He  is  better  than  Santa  Claus.  Douglass  and 
Grassmere,"  she  mui-mured,  her  voice  dwelling  on 
the  woi-ds  lovingly.  Meanwhile  she  watched  him 
gathenng  an  armful  of  packages  out  of  the  sleigh. 
When  he  stai-ted  for  the  house  he  told  the  man 
to  drive  home ;  tliat  he  would  walk  out  when  he 
was  ready  to  go. 

The  horses  started  off  at  a  biisk  canter,  the 
sleigh-bells  jingling  meirily.  Paul  stood  watching 
Douglivss  wading  through  the  deep  snow. 

"  If  I  had  vecy  long  biiots  I  would  go  and  meet 
him,"  he  said,  with  effusive  hospitality. 

"  Where  are  your  Ixwts  ? "  Douglass  asked,  letr 
ting  fall  his  parcels  on  the  floor,  and,  catching 
Paul  by  tlie  shouldei-s,  looked  down  affectionately 
into  the  little  round  face. 

"Mildred  says  they're  glowing  somewhere,  just 
like  the  boards  for  my  Cotfin;  but  I'd  rather  have 
Uie  boots." 


J 


tH» 


MILDKED  KENT'S  BEBO. 


"I  fully  sympathize  with  you  in  that  wish. 
Long  boots  are  more  suitable  than  coffins  to  wade 
about  in  the  Christmas  snow." 

"  But  I  can't  ^vade  about,"  Paul  said  regretfully. 
"My  boots  are  only  shoes.  If  I  had  been  a  mis- 
sion-school boy,  now,  T  might  have  got  long  boots 
too,  on  the  Christmas-ti-ee,  like  Tommy  Tuffts; 
but  he  squints,  and  Mildred  says  on  that  account 
he  ought  to  get  more  things  than  I." 

Douglass  followed  Mildred  to  the  kitchen.  A 
bright  fh-e  was  cheeiily  biuning,  and  things 
looked  so  home-like  and  comfortable  he  concluded 
it  was  perfectly  jolly  t<»   live  in  a  little  nest  of  a 

cottage. 

He  took  off  his  cap  and  coat,  and  sat  down  in 
the  easy-chair  Mildred  phiced  for  him  by  the  stove, 
while  Paul  leaned  on  the  arm  of  the  chair,  looking 
up  into  the  handsome  face  with  hungry,  admiring 
ghuices.  It  seemed  so  good  to  be  neai-  a  great 
boy  like  this  who  could  wade  in  the  deep  snow 
and  play  with  guns  and  horses.  Little  girls  weren't 
much  better  now  in  Paul's  estimation  than  i-ag- 
babies.  Grace  stood  some  distance  off,  watching 
him  shyly  through  her  cuitain  of  curls.  Douglass 
smiled  down  into  Paul's  eloquent  face,  and  then 
turned  to  Mildred. 


A   VEUX   WELCOMK   VIBIfOB. 


IM 


in   that  wish, 
coffins  to  wade 

said  regretfully, 
had  heen  a  mis- 
I  got  long  boots 
Tommy  Tuffts; 
on  that  account 
;  I." 

the   kitchen.    A 

ing,  and    things 

Ae  he  concluded 

little  nest  of  » 

md  sat  down  in 
im  by  the  stove, 
^e  chair,  looking 
liungry,  admiiing 
be  neai-  a  gi-eat 
.  the  deep  snow 
ittle  girls  weren't 
mation  than  vag- 
ce  o£f,  watobiug 
curls.  Douglass 
b  foce,  and   then 


'•Have  you  IumI  good  times  at  school?"  he 
asked. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  am  learning  to  draw." 

*<She  got  a  whole  dollar  once  for  making  Beth 
Lee  on  paper,  and  she  gave  every  cent  of  it  to 
the  mission-children  for  first-fruits;  it  went  towartls 
Tommy  Tuffts'  boots." 

"What  kind  of  fmit  is  that?"  DougUiss  asked 
cmiomly.  In  all  his  wide  experience  of  edibles 
he  had  never  heard  of  that  variety.  Mildi-ed's  face 
colored,  but  she  explained  to  her  visitor  the  his- 
toiy  of  the  name  and  its  puipose. 

t'Ah,  yes,  I  romember;  but  if  I  thought  about 
it  at  all,  I  reckoned  the  custom  had  gone  out  of 
fashion  along  with  the  slaughter  of  kine  and  other 
sacrificial  rites  of  the  Jewish  service." 

•«  There  ar^  oeme  things  that  ought  never  to  go 
out  of  &8hion,"  Mildred  timidly  hazarded  the  sug- 
gestion. 

•'  There  are  a  few  things  that  never  do,"  Douglass 
responded.  **  Getting  married  and  djring,  and  other 
customs  one  would  like  to  see  go  out  with  the  cut 
of  last  year's  gai-ments." 

«*  I  think  it  would  be  a  pity  for  those  two  tc  go 
out.    A  home  is  so  much  nicer  with  a  father  and 


BSf" 


140 


MlLMtKD  KKMT'a  HEKO. 


mother  both ;  and  then  it 's  pleamnt  to  die  when  one 
g&U  tired  and  Hick,  and  they  can  go  to  a  place 
prettier  even  than  Oranumere,"  Mildred  mid,  reflect- 
ively. 

"Pi-etty  homeH  don't  alvrays  make  one  happy. 
We  were  visiting  at  a  much  grander  place  than 
Onuwmei-e  while  we  wore  in  England,  and  the 
raiatresa  of  the  house  cried,  generally,  when  ahe 
looked  at  me.  It  was  a  jolly  place  to  visit,  but  I 
was  glad  to  get  away." 

♦♦I  don't  cry  when  I  look  at  you,"  Paul  said 
sooi-nfuUy.  »♦!  like  to  see  you  coming.  Boys  are 
ever  so  much  better  than  girls." 

"  Why  did  she  cry  when  she  looked  at  you  ?  ** 
Mildred  questioned. 

^«She  had  an  only  son  who  she  thought  looked 
like  me ;  but  he  was  drowned  while  bathing  in  the 
sea.  They  were  stopping  then  in  Scotland,  and 
perhai>s  the  water  was  colder  than  what  he  was  used 
to,  and  he  took  cramps.  When  they  reached  him  he 
was  quite  dead.  When  her  husband  dies,  their 
splendid  castle  and  park  and  everything  goes  to  a 
disagi-eeable  young  man  —  a  distant  couan." 

*'But  if  she  were  in  heaven,  she  needn't  mind 
who  was  living  in  her  castle  if  she  had  a  better  one ; 


■<I.WW,MIW"    ■ 


I 


to  die  when  one 
1  gfo  to  a  plnce 
:lred  mid,  refleot- 

Ake  one  happy, 
ider  place  than 
kgland,  and  the 
rally,  when  tthe 
e  to  visit,  but  I 

rou,"  Paul  said 
ming.     Boys  are 

ooked  at  you?** 

thought  looked 
e  bathing  in  the 
1  Scotland,  and 
nrhat  he  was  used 
f  reached  him  he 
iband  dies,  their 
jrthing  goes  to  a 
it  counn." 
iie  needn't  mind 
had  a  better  one ; 


A   VKMT  WELCOMK   VIBITOR. 


141 


or  gathering  her  flowers,  if  she  was  among  those 
tliut  never  fade." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say,  very  few  people  I  know  have 
such  a  vivid  sense  of  that  other  country  as  you.  *  A 
bii-d  in  the  hand  is  wortli  two  in  the  bush,'  to  most 
of  them."  He  turned  to  look  at  Grace,  who,  being 
unobserved,  had  been  drawing  quite  near. 

**I  think  I  can  find  a  rather  good-looking  baby 
among  those  pai-oels  at  the  door,"  he  said,  rising 
fi-om  the  chair. 

M  I'll  bring  in  the  bundles ! "  Paul  cried  eagerly, 
surmiging  there  might  be  something  for  himself. 

Grace  crept  nearer,  her  hair  put  btusk  and  her 
large  blue  eyes  alight  with  expectation. 

Douglass  took  up  a  long  box,  and  began  very 
carefully  to  untie  the  stiings.  Mildred  wondered 
at  his  singular  economy  in  the  matter  of  twine ; 
but  at  last  he  was  through,  and  Could  not  well 
tease  the  ep<ger«yed  children  any  longer.  The 
cover  was  taken  o£f,  a  fold  of  tissue-paper  lifted, 
when  the  most  beautiful  vision  of  dollish  loveliness 
the  children  ever  beheld  was  lifted  out  and  placed 
in  Grace's  arms.  She  held  it  for  a  while  spell- 
bound, and  then,  going  to  Mildred,  laid  it  carefully 
on  her  knee  and  turning  to   Douglass,  she  clasped 


us 


MILDRED   KENT'S  HERO. 


i 


her  arms   about  his   neck   and  gave   him  a  hearty 
kiss  on  his  own  red  lips. 

"Well  done,  little  maiden,  you  have  paid  me 
in  full  for  my  gift,"  he  said,  hugging  her  affection- 
ately, and  returning  her  kias  with  equal  wai-mth. 
She  nestled  down  contentedly  in  his  anna  for  a 
few  minute*,  and  then,  slipping  down,  took  her 
doll,  and  after  that  took  very  little  interest  in 
anything  else. 

Paul,  in  the  meantime,  was  watching  the  wrap- 
ping being  carefully  removed  from  another  of  the 
parcels,  which  was  proceeding  even  more  slowly 
than  in  the  first  case ;  but  at  last  Douglass  handed 
him  a  good-*jized  box  with  a  lock  and  key.  He 
took  it  with  a  mystified  air,  soiree  knowing  what 
to  do. 

"  Turn  the  key  and  the  lid  will  rise.*' 

«  Oh,  Mildred,  just  look  here !  "  he  cried  joyously. 
Mildred  did  as  commanded. 

"  It's  tools  to  be  a  carpenter  with  I "  Paul  cried 
grandly.  Already  he  felt  himself  nearly  a  man  He 
took  them  out  one  by  one,  examining  each  with  a 
fine,  critical  au-,  highly  becoming  to  a  full-grown 
workman,  but  very  comical  in  such  an  abbreviated 
specimen  of  humanity.    Presently  he  began  laying 


■  ■-ai!#fiaik*»«»is^-'*"i""  u-"^"' 


■^S^kS^^i 


J^ 


A   VERT  WELCOME  VISITOR. 


143 


9   him  a  hearty 

have  paid  me 
ig  her  affection- 
equal  wai-mth. 
his  &nns  for  a 
lown,  took  her 
ttle  interest  in 

}hing  the  wrap- 
another  of  the 
en  more  slowly 
Douglass  handed 
:  and  key.  He 
I   knowing  what 

rise.*' 
le  cried  joyously. 

thl"  Paul  cried 
early  a  man  He 
ling  each  witli  a 
to  a  full-grown 
ti  an  abbreviated 
he  began  laying 


them  back  in  the  box,  liis  eye  meanwhile  strayinf; 
furtively  towards  the  parcels  still  unopened. 

"You  Are  not  already  tired  of  them?"  Doug- 
lass asked. 

"Oh,  no!  but  I  can  look  at  them  when  you 
are  not  here,"  he  said,  very  politely,  trying  hard 
not  to  let  his  eyes  stray  too  fraquently  .  to  thoso 
mysterioiu  packages. 

"I  dare  say  you  are  anxious  to  know  what 
these  contain,"  Douglass  said  mischievously.  Paul 
blushed,  but  was  not  adept  enough  in  concealing 
his  desires   to   deny  the   impear^liment. 

There  was  the  same  provoking  economy  in  the 
matter  of  twin?  as  before ;  wlule  both  Mildred  and 
Paul  were  filled  with  amazement  that  the  heir 
of  Grassmere  should  be  so  caroful  of  what  was 
so  nearly  valueless.  Careful  as  he  was,  however, 
he  got  through  at  lost  —  when  another  box  was 
revealed  of  polished  rosewood  and  with  a  thick 
roll  of  papers.  Douglass  gave  them  to  Mildred  to 
open,  which  she  did  with  fingers  slightly  tremu- 
lous. The  box-cover  lifted,  and  a  vision  of  pos- 
sible beauty  lay  before  her  in  the  score  or  more 
of  varying  tints  of  watem^olors — not  the  cheap, 
unsatisfactory  «oi*t  that  she  had  always  been  tor- 


fi^^'^ti^Hrr-r^    --JfgUJfcT^--^ 


144 


MILDRED  KSNT'S  HSttO. 


tured  with,  but  the  Ver}'  best  manofoctored.  The 
color  came  and  went  in  the  roHe^taled  cheek, 
and  the  weighted  lids  still  drooped,  while  a  nei"- 
vous  quivering  ox  the  lips  told  of  hei  desire  to 
speak  her  thanks   and   the   impossibility  to  do  so. 

»«Ai-en't  you  glad,  Mildred?"  Paul  asked  anx- 
iously. "You  look  as  if  you  wanted  to  ciy." 
She  brushed  the  teai-s  away  that  Paul's  words  had 
forced  to  fall,  and  then  said  with  a  bmve  effort 
at  composure:  "L  is  because  I  am  so  glad  tliat 
I  can't  very  well  thank  you." 

"Please  don't  try.  I  am  well  paid  already; 
for  I  enjoyed  getting  the  things,  and  now  it's  a 
pleasure  to  see  how  well  you  like  them,"  he  said, 
as  if  he  was  the  one  after  all  who  was  having 
the  best  of  it. 

"  I  told  a  great  artist,  who  vnn  painting  my  pic- 
ture in  Rome,  about  you,  and  he  gave  me  some 
studies  for  you.  If  you  are  really  a  genius,  you 
can  go  on  yery  well  alone,  for  a  while,  at  all 
events." 

"But  I  am  not  a  genius;  I  just  like  to  look 
at  pictures,  and  want  to  make  them." 

"  Well,  I  expect  that  \»  the  Mncy  they  i^l  began. 
One  never  can  tell  how  much   capital   stock   they 


ofoctared.  The 
4>etaled  cheek, 
i,  while  a  nei'- 
»f  hei  desire  to 
bility  to  do  no. 
*aul  asked  anx- 
anted  to  oiy." 
^aul's  words  had 
a  bmve  effort 
ni   so   glad  that 

paid  already; 

and  now  it's  a 

them,"  he  said, 

rho   was  having 

Minting  my  pic- 
gave    me  some 
a  genius,   you 
a   while,  at   all 

It   like  to   look 
9m. 

they  tAl  began, 
jital   stock   they 


A   VEKT   WELCOME  VtBITOR. 


145 


may  have  until  they  measure  the!  faculties.  I  know 
there  are  very  few  girls  who  take  portraits,  at  least 
among  my  acquaintances,"  Douglass  said,  as  he 
put  on  his  coat  and  gloves.  He  shook  hands  with 
Paul  iW  very  solemn  fashion ;  for  already  the  wee 
man  was  assuming  all  the  airs  and  dignity  of  six 
feet  of  humanity  on  the  strength  of  his  box  of 
tools;  while  Gracie  stood  by  him  stroking  very 
lovingly  the  rich,  soft  fur  of  his  ooat. 

Mildred  followed  him  to  the  vdoor,  bethinking 
herself  in  time  to  ask  him  to  com^  again.  '^It  is 
just  like  sunshine  to  have  you  come  into  the  house, 
you  always  make  us  'to  happy,"  she  said  shyly. 

'*That  is  a  very  pretty  compliment.  You  can 
say  nice  things,  which  is  a  pleasanter  gift  than 
painting  pictures.  Most  of  the  artists  I  have  met 
ai-e  not  given  to  polite  remarks." 

Mildred  watched  him  wistfully  as  he  sped  down 
the  dnfted  garden-walk  and  along  the  street  until 
he  disappeared  from  sight.  It  was  so  beautiful  to 
know  real,  live  painters,  who  could  first  imagine 
and  then  make  immortal  their  dreams  of  beauty. 
The  shadows  of  night  were  beginning  to  gather  as 
she  stood  watching  the  whirling  snowilakes  covoi'^ 
ing  up  in  their  fleecy  embiBce  all  unsightly  things. 


.^55^ 


146 


MILDRED  KENT'S  WEJtO. 


and  making  houses  and  fences  look  like   pictures 
from   fairy-land.     If  she   could  only  watch  them 
falling  in  the  sert,  or  covering  hillsides   and  farm- 
steads,  and  cattle  wading  knee-deep  in   their  chill 
heauty,  what  an  unsatisfied  longing  in  her  heart 
would  he  filled  I    She  turned  hack  at  hist  to  the 
dusky  room.      Her  mother  would  soon  he  home, 
and    the    tea    must    he    in    readiness,    the    lamp 
lighted,  and  the  home  made  cheerful  for  the  dear 
one,  after  her  chUly  tmmp  through  the  snow  from 
the  grand  mansion  where  she  was  putting  the  ftn- 
ishmg  touches  to  the  dress  of  a  pamie  heauty  who 
lotaged  to  appear  as  a  dSbutante;  and  Mrs.   Kent, 
if  any  one  '*>   the   city  could  accomplish  such  a 
miracle,  was   the  one   to  do  it 


W*mm: 


mm 


ok  like  pictures 
ily  watch  them 
bides  and  biitn- 
)p  in  their  chill 
ng  in  her  heart 
Ic  at  last  to  the 
L  soon  he  home, 
ness,  the  lamp 
rful  for  the  dear 
fh  the  snow  from 

putting  the  fin- 
9au^e  heauiy  who 

and  Mrs.   Kent, 
loomplish  such  a 


CHAPTER  HIV. 


DBKAM8. 


YtYHE  holidays  ended,  Mildred  returned  to 
pj  I U  school  with  fresh  eagerness.  With  her 
vast  supplies  of  water^solors  she  felt  pre- 
pared to  take  a  contract  to  supply  the  entire  school 
wiUi  portoaits  at  a  dollar  a  head;  while,  a  great 
many  times,  in  imagination  she  expended  the 
money  tiius  earned. 

In  the  meuitime,  until  orders  came  in,  she  prac- 
tised very  diligently  on  Paul  and  Grace  and  the 
lady  Ermengarde,  the  elegant  Paris  doll.  The  two 
former  were  growing  very  weary  of  poemg,  and 
had  ceased  to  take  much  interest  in  their  pictiues 
as  they  slowly  advanced  under  Mildred's  painstak- 
ing htvah.      Next  to  her  hox  of  water^olors,  the 

Mr 


148  MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

Btudies  Douglass  had  brought  her  from  Rome  were 
her  deeiiest  source  of  satisfaction.     By  her  school- 
mates  who  knew  anything  of  her  straitened  home 
and  circumstances,  her  lot  was  regarded  as  an  ex- 
ceedingly liard  one ;  but  perhaps  few  of  them  drew 
from  their  multiplied  sources  of  enjoyment  a  tithe 
of   the   genuine   satisfaction    which   she    extracted 
from  her  few.    She  was,  like  the  bee,  drinking  to 
the  full  of  her  few  rare  flowers,  and  storing  away 
in   the    still    fastiiesses  of   her  soul   rich   supplies 
wherefrom   to    draw    in   future    days;    they   were 
like   tiie    butterfly    which    alights    on    the    honey- 
filled   flower  without  the  means  or  knowledge    to 
extract  its  wealtii  of  sweetness.      From  her  lim- 
ited sources  of  delight  she   managed  to  draw  so 
much  i«al  and  imaginaiy  joy,  it  would  be  a  very 
happy  i)oiiM)n  indeed  who  could  afford  to  bestow 
sympathy  on  her. 

Douglass  returned  after  tiie  holidays  to  tiie 
Paik  Avenue  School,  which  was  as  exclusively 
aiistocmtic  a.s  ever;  and  tiie  older  pupils  probably 
regaitltid  Mildred  with  the  same  contempt  as  at 
fiiBt;  but  the  younger  ones  were  very  forgetful 
of  tiieir  imrents'  wealth  and  social  position;  while 
Mildi«d  had    become  so  absorbed    in    her    studies 


JL. 


m^- 


DttBAMS. 


149 


■om  Rome  were 
By  her  school- 
traitened  home 
^ed  as  an  ex- 

of  ihem  drew 
joyment  a  tithe 

she  extracted 
lee,  drinking  to 
d  storing  away 
I  rich  supplies 
jrs;  they  were 
on  the  honey- 
'  knowledge  to 
From  her  lim- 
;ed  to  draw  so 
ould  be  a  very 
Sord  to  bestow 

olidaya  to  the 
as    exclusively 

pupils  probably 

contempt  as  at 
very  forgetful 
position;  while 

in    her    studies 


that  she  was  usually  quite  oblivious  to  caste  and 
society  generally;  and  her  peace  of  mind  was  Bel> 
dom  greatly  disturbed  by  their  reference  to  her 
poverty  and  humble  station,  or  their  own  afBuenoe 
and  fine  social  position. 

Besides,  she  had  such  a  wealth  of  imagination 
that  her  leanness  of  pocket  was  often  forgotten. 
She  was  fascinating  her  schoolmates  so  deeply 
with  her  descriptions  of  imaginary  scenes  and 
peisoni^es,  that  they  were  often  quite  awed  by 
her  sui,t,rior  acquaintances.  Her  dukes  and  lords, 
with  attendant  knights  and  esquires,  their  palaces 
and  parks, — all,  it  is  true,  on  the  model  of 
Grassmere,  became  at  last  the  peculiar  belongings 
of  their  dreamy  little  schoolfellow;  while  the 
stories  she  carried  on  through  days,  and  some- 
times weeks,  of  their  I'.oinga  and  mishaps,  were 
more  fascinating  than  any  &iry  stories  they  read ; 
making  them  forget  her -plain  frocks  and  hats  in 
the  brilliance  of  her  imagination. 

But  with  Douglass  Everett's  return  to  school, 
and  the  knowledge  that  for  some  unaccountable 
reason  he  had  taken  Mildred  under  his  care,  her 
schoolmates  would  have  been  graciously  friendly 
if  her  imagination  had  been  as  weak  as  their  own. 


_«i. 


i    '» 


t    i 


^ 


160 


MILDRKD  KENT'S  BEM. 


Beth  and  Connin  renewed  their  protestations  of 
x^jaitl,  and  were  exceedingly  affectionate  when 
Douglass  was  in  sight ;  hoping  thereby  to  get  an- 
other invitation  to  Grassmere.  For  u..y  were 
more  eager  now  to  go  than  ever,  since  they  had 
hiMul  Mildr3d  describe  it  so  many  times  over  in  a 
8atnmer<iieG8.  To  see  it  in  winter,  the  white  stat- 
ues vieing  in  purity  with  the  fresh-&llen  snow, 
the  frozen  lake,  and  the  sleeping  flowers  all  so 
minutely  described  by  Mildred  from  her  own  fancy, 
would  be  like  a  trip  to  fairy-land. 

But  Douglass  paid  litUe  attention  now  to  either 
girls  or  boys.  He  was  a  very  diligent  student, 
taking  but  little  apparent  notice  of  what  trans- 
pired about  him.  He  took  the  highest  rank  in  his 
studies,  and  generally  had  received  m:^?  than  his 
shaie  of  prizes  since  he  had  atteaded  the  school. 
This  was  his  last  year,  as  he  expected  to  enter 
coUtgc.  Tno  other  kds  -used  to  wonder  at  his 
eagerness  for  study,  since  there  was  no  necessity 
fov  him    to    exoci.    his    future   boiug  al'^ady    as- 

« 

sured. 

«« i£  I  had  a  place  like  Grassmere,  with  as  nuny 
thousand  a  year  ea  he  will  have,  you  wouldn't 
catch  me  sweating  my  braLot  over  hard  stuuy,  sm 


m 


DMMAHa. 


m 


rotestattons  df 
otionate  when 
eby  to  get  an- 
Or  u..-y  were 
ince  they  had 
imw  over  in  a 
the  white  stat- 
>h-&llen  snow, 
flowers  all  so 
her  own  fiuicy, 

now  to  either 
ligent  student, 
of  what  trans* 
lest  rank  in  his 

k:^?  than  his 
led  the  school, 
ected  to  enter 
wonder  at  his 
IS  no  necessity 
ng  al'iady    as- 

),  with  as  nuny 

,  you  wouldn't 

hard  stuuy,  sa 


he  does,"  Frank  Hall,  a  clasMnate,  remarked  con. 
temptuously. 

*»He  is  an  only  child,  and  they  say  his  moth- 
er just  dotes  on  him.  Think  of  the  pocket- 
money  he  can  have,"  Lucius  Heathcot  made  reply, 
as  the  group  of  discontented  hids  made  Douglass 
the  subject  of  conversation. 

"He  could  travel  and  see  things  without  having 
to  study   them   up.    For  my   part,  I  wish  I  had 
been  bom   three  hundred  years   ago   and  been  a 
knight.    They  didn't  nave  to  know  how  to  read  or 
write,  but  just  get  a  horse  and  sword  and  suit  of 
armor,  and  they  could   make   their  living,  —  fight 
somebody,  and  get  a  rich  heuress,  if  nothing  eke," 
Frank  responded  with  a  very  dissatisfied  air.    Evi- 
dentiy  he  realized  that  he  had   fallen  on  very  un- 
piopitious  times.    They  did  not  know  that  Doug- 
lass Everett's  mother  was  more  strict  in  the  train- 
ing of  her  boy  than  most  mothers;  and  if  his  sup- 
ply of  pocketmoney  exceeded  theirs,  a  minute  ac- 
count had  to  be  kept  of  its  outhiy.    Every  month 
since  his  ohiiahood  he  and  his  mother  had  been  in 
the  habit  of  going  carefully  over  every  dime,  and 
a  debit  and  credit  account  kept  of  his  expenditure. 
Oenetous  gifts  of  whatever  nature  had  gone  to  the 


mmmmm 


IfiS 


MILDRED  KENT'S  BEBO. 


1 


orodit  Bide,  with  the  purchase  of  whatever  might 
be  necessaiy  or  wine ;  but  selfish  or  extravagant 
waste  to  the  debit  side.  At  first  the  hitter  was 
generally  the  largest;  but  the  sorrowful  look  on 
his  mother's  face  used  to  send  tlie  little  Itul  so 
humiliated  from  the  postuig  of  his  accounts  tliat 
he  would  make  very  firm  resolves  to  do  better. 
Unfortunately  he  had  a  boy's  love  for  self4ndul* 
gence  in  those  little  luxuries  dear  to  every  child's 
heart;  so  that  it  was  the  work  of  many  months 
before  he  brought  the  credits  to  balance  the  other 
side  of  tlie  account.  His  mother  had  striven  faithr 
fully  to  train  her  boy  so  that  he  might  become  a 
wise  steward  of  his  laige  fortune,  —  to  make  him 
a  knight  vrithout  fear  and  without  reproach.  Hence 
Mildred,  as  well  as  others,  was  being  benefited 
by  the  wise  training  of  this  only  son.  Many  a 
story  had  he  listened  to  from  his  mother's  lips  in 
childhood,  with  swelling  heart  and  throbbing  pulses, 
of  deeds,  done  Unlay  by  boys  and  men,  worthy  the 
days  of  chivahy.  Acts  of  unselfishness  and  self- 
repression,  of  noble  daring  performed  in  the. quiet 
ways  of  life  and  that  were  possible  for  all  to  do; 
so  that  it  was  only  natural  he  should  be  ready,  as 
in  Mildred's  case,  to  care  for  the   defenceless,  and 


i^ 


m^ 


DBEAMS. 


15S 


whatever  might 
or  eximvagant 

the  latter  was 
)wful  look  on 
)   little  Intl   HO 

acoountH   tliat 

to  do   better. 

for   8elf4ndul- 

0  every  child's 
many  months 

ance  the  other 

1  striven  faith- 
light  become  a 
-to  make  him 
)roach.  Hence 
leing    benefited 

son.  Many  a 
iiother's  lips  in 
robhing  pulses, 
ten,  worthy  the 
kness  and  self- 
d  in  the .  quiet 

for  all  to  do; 
Id  be  ready,  as 
Lefenceless,  and 


use  hU  own  proud  name  and  position  as  a  shield 
for  them.  Besides,  the  dreamy-eyed  litUe  maiden 
hwl  somehow  aroealed  stiungely  to  his  boyish  sym- 
pathies.  The  look  of  anguish  on  her  face  that  first 
day  at  school,  when  her  bright  airoasUes  were 
sliattered  at  her  feet,  and  afterward  the  delight  on 
her  face  as  the  beauties  of  Grsssmere  unfolded  to 
her  wondering  gaze,  together  witli  the  pHJtty  pic- 
ture of  motherUness  she  presented  whUe  caring  for 
the  two  littie  ones  at  home,  made  her  seem  quite 
unlike  any  other  of  his  girl-friends. 

The  hoUday  joys  had  nearly  passed  ^m  plewant 
realities  into  very  agreeable  memories,  whUe  other 
interests  besides  the  giving  and  receiving  of  presents, 
with  festive  merrymaking  generally,  were  beginning 
to  absorb  the  children's  minds,  when  one  January 
morning,  when  the  air  was  chill  with  promise  of  com- 
ing  storm,  Doughiss  overtook  MUdred  just  at  the 
school-gate,  and,  after  a  few  words  of  conversation, 
invited  her  and  any  two  of  her  schoohnat»s  she  chose 
to  Grassmere  the  following  Saturday.     Her  face,  as 
she  turned  it  towards  him  for  an  instant,  reminded 
him  of  the  illuminated  pictures  of  some  beautiful 
saint,  such  as  he  liad  seen  painted  by  the  old  masters. 
"Do  you  care  so  very  much  for  Grassmere?"   he 
asked,  with  surprise. 


f^JfiH 


;-"ii"ni-m;iii'ii;  ■ 


h  !l 


IM 


MJLtnSD  KENT'S  HERO. 


'» It  helpH  m«  tu  iniHgine  what  heaven  is  like,  and 
the  sort  of  place  my  father  hai  now.  Beeides, 
I  like  to  see  it  for  other  reasons,"  she  very  honestly 
added. 

«*Ah,  tliat  is  right,  it  makes  you  less  of  a  spirit- 
maiden,"   Douglass  said,  with  a  smile. 

«^  May  I  ask  Beth  and  Connie  again  ? "  .  she  in> 
quired  timidly. 

^'  Anyone  you  choose,  or  you  can  come  alone." 

^<-  Oh,  no.  If  you  would  just  as  soon,  they  would 
enjoy  going  so  much;  and  I  am  getting  tired  of 
describing  it  to  them.  They  have  mostly  foi-gotten 
about  it.  We  have  been  wanting  so  much  to  see 
those  poor  people  standing  out  in  the  snow." 

"  What  poor  people  ?  " 

^  The  marble  ones ;  they  must  look  so  cold  these 
chilly  days."  Mildred  shivei-ed  sympathetically. 

'«What  an  observing  little  kitten  you  are!  It 
never  occured  to  me  to  think  of  their  looking  cold. 
I  expect  if  you  owned  Grassmere,  you  would  make 
woolen  coats  for  them." 

"No;  they  would  look  too  much  like  the  scare- 
crows my  mother  tells  me  about,  in  English  mmdows 
and  gardens.  I  would  get  the  man  who  made 
them  to  carve  others  and  make  them  already 
clothed." 


ri 


leaven  is  like,  and 
I  now.  Besides, 
she  very  honestly 

u  lees  of  a  spirit- 
ile. 

again  ?  "  .  she  in- 
come alone." 
soon,  they  would 
getting  tired  of 
I  moHtly  foi-gotten 
I  so  much  to  see 
be  snow." 

look  so  cold  these 
npathetically. 
sten  you   are !  It 
;heir  looking  cold. 
,  you  would  make 

ch  like  the  scare- 
English  mmdows 
man    who   made 

ke    them    already 


DMKAM8. 


IM 


Doughiss  laughed  as  he  sprang  up  the  steps, 
while  Mildred  waited  for  the  little  figures  she  spied 
entering  the  gate. 

'« Oh,  girhi,  I  have  such  beautiful  news  for  you  I " 
Hhe  cried. 

^*Has  your  sailor  husband  really  and  truly  come?" 

Betli  asked. 

>'Ever  so  much  better  than  that!" 

'<■  Do  tell  us  what  it  is,"  Connie  said  impatiently. 
Her  imagination  worked  with  difficulty,  and  she 
did  not  enjoy  the  exertion  of  guessing. 

M  Douglass  has  invited  us  to  Orassmere  on  Sat- 
urday." 

"Did  he  say  for  Connie  and  me  to  go?"  Beth 

asked  incredulously. 

"He  said  I  might  asl:  any  two  girls  I  liked} 
and  so  it  is  to  be  you." 

"You  are  just  a  perfect  darling  I"  Beth  danced 
around  Mil4ied  in  great  glee.  "  You  are  the  luck- 
iest playmate  to  have  in  the  whole  school.  It's 
just  splendid  to  be  poor." 

"  It's  splendid  to  be  friends  with  the  poor  when 
they  get  vou  nice  invitations  and  things,"  Connie 
judiciously  corrected  Beth's  statement. 

"Well,  we  have  had  no  end  of  good  times  with 


f 


■!fe^MI?jig!Ji 


156 


MILDRED  KSNT'B  HERO. 


■:S ' 


Mildred,  anyway.  She  got  iw  fiwt  to  Orasbmere, 
and  then  the  afternoon  vihits  at  her  phuie  witli  tlie 
children,  and  then  the  make-believes.  I  deckre  I 
'nost  think  we  have  a  sailor  father  somewhere. 
I  dream  about  him  lots  of  times.  The  other  night 
I  dreaiut  I  saw  liim  drowning.  But  I  always  have 
bad  dreams  after  eating  Icbster^alad,"  Beth  know- 
ingly added. 

"■  Did  he  actually  get  drowned  ?  "  Mildred  asked, 
looking  really  staiHed  and  uneasy. 

«I  'most  foi-get;  but  it  was  only  a  dream,"  Betli 
replied  reassuringly. 

"It  is  only  a  di-eam  anj'way;  and  if  you  really 
saw  him  drown,  we  must  give  him  up  and  get 
some  mourning  to  wear." 

"What  a  queer  girl  you  are,  Mildred  Kent!" 
Comiie  said  with  a  good  deal  of  contempt  "We 
can  make  believe  he  was  rescued." 

Mildred  shook  hev  head.  "I  can  never  be  cer- 
Unx  about  him  after  this,"  she  said  sadly.  "  Paul 
ana  Grace  will  cry,  I  am  sure,  when  I  tell  them 
of  his  death." 

"Tliere,  I  have  no  patience  with  you.  If  it 
weren't  for  Grassmere  I  would  have  nothing  at  all 
to  do  wiUi  you  for  ever  so  long.    Just  rs  if  we 


■ ;  wrwwswww-' 


t.^a^.h^.'iUirn  -  ^  t, .— ^^ 


ttm 


mmm 


SBO. 

rat  to  Orasbmere, 
lier  place  with  tlie 
ives.  I  declare  I 
Either  somewhere. 
The  other  night 
But  I  always  have 
aad,"  Beth  know- 

r"  Mildred  asked, 

ily  a  dream,"  Beth 

and  if  you  really 
him  up  and  get 

,  Mildred  Kent!" 
contempt    "  We 
I." 

can  never  he  oer- 
ftid  sadly.  "Paul 
when  I  tell  them 

with  you.  If  it 
lave  nothing  at  all 
f.    Just  Rs  if  we 


DREAMS. 


1A7 


couldn't  make  believe  right  along,  no  matter  what 
Belli  dreams.  She's  a  gi-eedy  child  anyway,  and 
always  eating  soa^ething  not  good  for  lier." 

"I  don't  eat  any  more  than  you;   there  now," 
Beth    retorted,    with    flushed    face    and    snapping 

eyes. 

"I  dwi't  di-eain  and  spoil  things,  anyway,"  Con- 
nie retorted  contemptuously. 

"Tlwt  is  all  Mildi-ed's  fault.  She  is  so  particu- 
lar about  her  make-believes." 

«I  can't  help  it,  girhj.  If  I  don't  feel  things, 
I  cannot  make  believe  them.  It  would  be  like 
acting  a  lie." 

"It  is  all  lies,  anyway.  You  were  never  mar- 
ried,  and  we  have  no  father  only  our  own.  No 
one  has  more  than  one  father;  not  even  the  Pres- 
ident's children,"  Beth  said,  with  sudden  conscien- 
tiousness. 

"I  thought  we  should  all  Ir:  »o  happy,  ^nd  you 
would  be  gUd  about  going  to  Gi-assmere ;  and  now 
we  are  doing  nothing  but  quan«ling,"  MUdred 
said,  ver}'  sorrowfully,  and  then  went  to  the  chiss- 
room.  Beth  and  Connie  finished  their  passage  at 
anns  outside;  each  one  blaming  the  other  for  the 
breach  of    peace  until  the  bell  rang    and   termi 


168 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


nated  their  woixiy  war.  But  their  uatures  were  not 
superfine ;  so  that  they  could  easily  quarrel  and  as 
easily  forget  their  small  unpleasautnessos  —  loving 
each  other  afterwai-d  just  as  effusively  as  if  no 
breeze  had  ruffled  the  smoothness  of  their  friend- 
ship. But  Mildred  was  differently  constituted  and 
trained.  She  was  not  accustomed  to  broils  at 
home,  neither  could  she  easily  i-esume  the  kindly 
relations  with  schoolmates  when  tlie  peace  w>u 
broken,  when,  as  in  this  case,  she  felt  no  blame 
lay  wich  her.  Instead,  now,  of  having  a  happy 
morning,  filled  with  gi-acious  fancies  I'espectiiig 
their  coming  visit  to  Grassmere,  she  cried  away 
dowa  in  ber  heai*{,  as  she  was  wont  to  describe 
her  sorrowful  houra,  and  wondered  at  the  crooked 
\(rays  of  this  disjointed,  uncertain  experience  we 
osll  life. 


mmmmm 


t 


uatm«8  were  not 
ly  quarrel  andaa 
utnesses  —  loving 
usively  as  if  no 
•'  of  Uieir  friend- 
r  constituted  and 
ed  to  broils  at 
»ume  the  kindly 
I  the  peace  was 
le  felt  no  blame 
Imving  a  happy 
incies    I'espectiiig 

she  cried  away 
iront  to  describe 
1  at  the  crooked 
1   experience  we 


CHAPTER  XV. 


DISCUSSIONS. 


\  I  /HE  ^Ay  following  was  one  of  January's 
J\  I  U     fiercest  stoiTns,  —  driving  snow  and  wind, 

-*>  — 80  that  Mildi-ed  was  not  only  kept  in 
the  house  all  day,  but  filled  with  alarm  lest  tiie 
Satmtlay's  visit  should  prove  an  impossibility. 

*' Winter  is  so  much  worse  tlian  summer.  If  it 
storms  then,  the  rain  don't  diift  every  place  up  like 
snow,"  she  exclaimed  sorrowfully,  while  watching 
the  dreary  prospect  outside,  thinking  meanwhile  of 
the  stretch  of  open  country  lying  between  the  cily 
ana  Qrassmere.  ••I  don't  think  it  pays  to  be  ex- 
pecting anjrthing  in  tliis  world ;  it  is  so  very  upset- 
ting in  its  ways,"  she  romarked  disconsolately. 


160 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HEBO. 


♦♦  Never  mind,  there  are  plenty  of  other  Saturdays 
stretching  summei-wards ;  and  Douglass  will  invite 
you  again,"  her  mother  said  consolingly. 

"  I  don't  know  if  I  could  live  to  another  Saturday. 
It  seems  so  far  away." 

"Time  won't  seem  so  long  to  you  forty  years 
hence,  my  child." 

"  Forty  years  I "  Mildred  gasped,  "•  that  seems  far- 
ther away  than  heaven." 

"  And  so  it  may  be,"  the  mother  said  with  a  sigh, 
as  she  thought  of  her  child's  intense  nature,  so  liable 
to  be  soon  burnt  up  by  its  own  inner  passion. 

^  I  should  n't  mind  waiting  a  good  many  weeks  if 
I  could  go  to  Grassmere,  and  have  my  dinner  by 
gas-light,"  Paul  said,  more  interested  in  the  dinner 
itself,  however,  than  the  gas-light. 

His  remai-k  turned  Mildred's  attention  away 
from  her  own  disappointment.  "  I  believe  I  am  just 
as  selfish  as  I  can  be,"  she  said  humbly,  "fretting  be- 
cause I  can't  have  what  I  want  right  away,  while 
you  do  not  have  it  at  all.  But  never  mind,  Paul, 
I  will  tell  you  everything  over  and  over  again 
after  I  come  back." 

"  It  makes  me  hungry  hearing  about  the  dinner 
—  the  turkey,  and  tails,  and  pudding.    My,  wouldn't 


■  "-■  ^J«^^fai»^»w.■spp»f^''i^»"'■" 


Wit 


imm 


^ 


rexo. 

of  other  Saturdays 

ouglasH  will  invite 

lingly. 

•  another  Saturday. 

o  you  forty  years 

I,  ^  that  seems  fax- 

'  said  with  a  sigh, 
ise  nature,  so  liable 
ler  passion, 
ood  many  weeks  if 
ave  my  dinner  by 
sted  in  the  dinner 

i  attention  away 
[  believe  I  am  just 
mbly,  "  fretting  be- 
right  away,  while 
never  mind,  Paul, 
and    over    again 

about  the  dinner 
ing.   My,  wouldn't 


DiacvasioNB. 


161 


I  eat  if  I  was  there !  Do  they  eat  up  iii  heav- 
en?" He  turned  eagerly  to  his  mother.  "Do 
they  have  plenty  of  roast  xieat  and  geese  and 
turkeys?" 

"You  terrible  boy  I"  the  mother  said,  gi-eatly 
shocked  at  his  materialising  heaven's  pmity.  "There 
ai-e  no  animals  killed  there,  no  death  at  all,  not 
even,  of  a  flower.  You  must  try  to  think  of  heaven 
very  differently  from  that." 

"  Mildred  says  there's  all  kinds  of  nioe^asting 
fruits  tiiere,  and  birds.  Anyway  Td  like  to  go 
somewhere,  so  that  I  can  get  plenty  of  good  things 
to  eat." 

"Never  mind,  Paul;  I  guess  you  won't  have  to 
die  to  get  good  things.  You  will  be  a  man  some 
day,  and  earn  lota  of  money,"  Mildi«d  said  veiy 
assuringly. 

"But  it  is  so  long  to  wait,"  he  objected,  after 
thinking  the  matter  over  In  silence  for  some  mo- 
ments. "And  I  want  something  good  now.  Say, 
mamma,  ca»'t  we  have  another  Chiistmas  goose, 
with  onions  and  turnips,  and  pudding  witli  lots  of 
sauce?"  he  asked  eagerly  of  his  mother,  whose 
face  wore  a  smile,  but  seemed  a  taifle  sad,  never- 
theless, while   she   looked   at  her  i-apidly  gi-owing 


1«S 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HEM. 


boy  with  his  keen,  healthy  appetite  that  craved 
stronger  food  than  she  could  conscientiously  give 
him.  But  her  work  was  commanding  higher  pay 
now,  and  soon,  she  hoped,  the  wolf  would  be  for- 
ever driven  fi-om  her  door. 

«*Ye8,  Paul,  you  shall  have  another  Christmas 
dinner  veiy  shortly.  We  will  have  our  biUs  all 
paid  in  a  few  days,  and  then  there  need  be  no 
more  pinching  if  God  gives  me  health." 

The  debts  she  <*^>iiJ(e  of  had  been  a  necessity, 
since  they  wera  contracted  while  she  was  learning 
the  ai-t  of  fashioning  becomingly  the  handsome  gar- 
ments her  customers  were  now  wearing  with  so  much 
comfort. 

Paul  gi'ew  cheerful  with  the  near  prospect  of 
another  Christmas;  while  Mildivd,  although  still 
casting  an  occasional  anxious  glance  through  the 
window  at  the  iitging  elements  without,  said  no 
more  about  her  disappointment ;  and  the  home  soon 
regained  its  wonted  oheeifulness. 

Mrs.  Kent,  all  through  her  children's  lives,  had 
tried  to  make  every  day,  so  far  as  possiUe,  a  gala 
day;  not  waiting,  as  so  many  do,  for  some  imposr 
sible  future  in  which  to  be  completely  happy. 
Thero  was,  in  the  busiest  time  when  she  could  be 


■PMBM 


DIBCUaBIONB. 


168 


stite  that  craved 
tsoientiously  give 
iding  higher  pay 
If  would  be    for- 

lother  Christinas 
lave  our  bills  all 
lera  need  be  no 
Balth." 

been  a  necessity, 
she  was  learning 
he  handsome  gar> 
ing  with  so  much 

near  prospect  of 
d,  although  still 
nee  through  the 
without,  said  no 
ad  the  home  soon 

Idren's  lives,  had 
s  poesiUe,  a  gala 
for  some  impos- 
tmpletely  happy, 
len  she  could  be 


with  them,  the  children's  hour,  when  stories  were 
told,  very  often  to  the  rhythm  of  the  swift  gkn- 
cing  needle,  and  innocent  merry-making  that  made 
her  children,  as  well  as  herself,  Iwth  healthier  and 
happier.  Her  hands  worked  all  the  busier  iu  the 
moi-e  exciting  passages  of  tlie  stories  she  i-elated 
or  the  actual  histories  she  i-ehearsed  fj-om  a  well< 
stored  memoiy.  And  now  she  was  training  Mil- 
dred to  utilize  the  knowledge  she  was  acquiring 
from  week  to  week  at  school  by  impai-ting  it  to 
the,  younger  ones.  The  task  was,  at  times,  very 
irksome ;  for  Mildi-ed  was  a  martinet  in  the  matter 
of  school-discipline,  and  compelled  from  the  i-eluc- 
taut  childi-en  the  same  silence  and  industry  that 
was  the  rule  in  Park  Avenue  School.  Foi-getting 
her  own  early  difficulties  in  overcoming  the  mys- 
teries of  latter-learning  and  woi'd-building,  she  often 
grew  impatient  at  their  inattention  and  stupidity. 
Paul  could  veiy  readily  sympathize  with  her  lack 
of  this  rare  grace  at  Grace's  slow  pi-ogress  in 
knowledge,  but  deeply  resented  it  when  his  own 
turn  came. 

Mildred  was  ambitious  to  teach  Paul  everything 
she  was  herself  learning,  more  particularly  her  own 
favorite.  d»wing4e8Sons;  buttMs  branch  of  instrao- 


t 


164 


MlLDRhD  KEST'B  HERO. 


tion  taxed  her  patience  most  sorely  of  any.  His 
straight  lines  as  frequently  represented  curves  us  what 
hey  were  intended  for;  while  his  cows,  if  unpro- 
vided with  horns,  would  do  very  nicely  for  pigs  or 
dogs,  or  any  other  quadruped,  provided  cue's  im- 
agination was  vivid  enough  to  make  up  for  his 
lack  of  skill.  His  landscapes,  which  he  was  par- 
ticularly anxious  to  work  at,  were  even  worse,  be- 
ing a  confused  mass  of  pencil-marks.  In  replj  to 
Mildred's  not  very  patient  criticisms  one  day,  he 
said  impetuously :  *<  Anyway,  I  can  get  more  paper 
covered  in  an  hour  than  you  do  in  a  day;  and 
what's  the  odds  how  it  looks  ?  Ai^ybody  with  eyes 
can  see  the  out-doors  for  tliemselves.  It's  just  a 
waste  of  time  copying  live  things,  for  they  are  only 
make-believes." 

"  Oh,  Paul,  how  can  you  say  that  ? "  Mildred  re- 
monstrated "  If  you  could  only  see  the  Grassmere 
pictures,  prettier  than  any  out-doois  we  can  see, 
you  would  try  to  be  a  painter  too." 

'♦  If  you  want  to  make  them,  you  can ;  but  I 
don't,  and  I  will  never  make  another  picture  as 
long  as  I  live."  He  laid  down  his  pencil  decid- 
edly ;  and  Mildred's  entreaties  after  that  were  un- 
availing in  getting  him  to  make  any  more  land- 


'n««i 


niiwri—nifc'Tr' "t  ' 


■  V^*»-'3^W>^-^^  *■■ 


4y 


rilMMl 


T 


/" 


ly  of  any.    Hie 
id  curves  ua  what 
cows,  if  unpro- 
lioely  for  pigs  or 
vided   cne's   im- 
ftke   up    for   his 
ah  he    was   par- 
even  worse,  be- 
:s.     In   replj  to 
ma  one  day,  he 
get  more  paper 
in  a  day;  and 
ybody  with  eyes 
es.    It's   just  a 
or  they  are  only 

t?"  Mildred  re- 
e  the  Grassmere 
318   we  can  see, 

rou  can ;  but  I 
)ther  picture  as 
is  pencil  deoid- 
r  that  were  un- 
any  more  land- 


DiacvaaioNt. 


165 


scapes.  But  his  aptitude  at  figures  consoled  her 
greatly  and  commanded  a  respect  that  went  iax 
to  atone  for  his  incapacity  for  appreciating  art. 

Though  Mildred  often  grew  very  weary  of '  .;»» 
ing,  her  mother  wisely  believed  the  discipline  ^rool'' 
be  ample  recompense  for  hours  of  dradg«}  ?  \v» 
employed.  She  had  herself  learned  the  «iU"«  it 
any  help  we  get  through  the  journey  of  life  that 
lifts  the  soul  to  serener  heights,  to  wid^  '  Topeo- 
tives.  When  there  is  more  to  enervate  than  uplift, 
anything,  no  matter  how  tiresome,  that  lifts  us  out 
of  ourselves  and  to  a  higher  plane  of  taought  and 
action  should  be  eagerly  utilized.  She  realized  her 
responsibility  of  motherhood  in  moulding  the  charac- 
ters, not  of  her  own  children  alone,  but  of  other 
possible  generations  through  them ;  therefore  she 
strove  witli  all  diligence  to  build  characters  that 
might  be  a  help  in  the  world,  if  God  willed  tliat 
tihey  should  one  day  join  its  great  host  of  workers ; 
if  not,  that  they  might  be  ready  for  still  higher 
existences,  if  taken  from  it.  Already,  with  joy,  she 
saw  her  work  bearing  fruit  in  Mildred's  character,  in 
the  earnestness  with  which  she  took  hold  of  what- 
ever presented  itself  in  the  form  of  duty,  the  honesty 
and  purity  of  her  actions,  and  more  especially  in 
her  unselfishness. 


I'' 


■f  f  1 


IM 


MILDRKD  KENT'S  BBBO. 


The  Saturday  afternoon  duly  arrived ;  the  storm 
had  long  since  ceased,  and  street  and  highway  were 
in  excellent  condition  for  locomotion  of  all  kinds. 
Beth  and  Connie,  as  on  that  memorable  midsummer 
afternoon,  came  to  Mulberry  Street  to  await  the 
sleigh  from  Gi-assmere.  Beth's  dream  was  still  very 
vivid  in  Mildred's  mind;  and  she  had  decided 
that  some  visible  token  must  be  presented  in  respect 
to  his  memory.  ITie  other  children  very  reluctantly 
allowed  themselves  to  be  put  into  mourning  for 
their  deceased  sailor  father,  but  only  in  view  of 
Grassmere  and  the  other  benefits  that  Mildred 
brought  them  did  they  consent  to  accept  her  de- 
cision that  they  were  fatherless,  and  must  preserve 
the  proprieties  accordingly.  But  Paul  and  Grace, 
with  the  satisfaction  sometimes  experienced  by  full- 
grown  mourners,  donned  their  badge  of  sorrow  with 
alacrity. 

Beth  and  Connie  turned  over  the  generous- 
sized  crape  favors  Mildred  had  made  and  present- 
ed them  critically. 

"  If  they  ask  us  at  Grassmere  who  it  is  for,  what 
shall  we  say?"  Beth  questioned  anxiously. 

"  We'll  say  a  distant  relation  was  drownded,"  Con- 
nie replied. 


r^ 


ived ;  the  storm 
id  highway  were 
on  of  all  kinds, 
able  niidHummer 
9t  to  await  the 
iva  was  still  very 
le  had  decided 
ented  in  respect 
very  reluctantly 
a  mourning  for 
nly  in  view  of 
i  that  Mildred 
accept  her  de- 
1  must  preserve 
'aul  and  Grace, 
irienced  by  full- 
B  of  sonow  with 

the    generous- 
de   and  present- 

0  it  is  for,  what 
ixiously. 
irownded,"  Con- 


DtBCUBBIONB. 


167 


"  You  should  not  say  drownded,  nor  tell,  a  stoiy, 
either,"  Mildred  corrected. 

"What  shall  we  tell  them,  then?" 
"Perhaps    they    won't  ask;  genuine    ladies   are 
never  inquisitive,  mamma  says;  but  if  they  do  we 
will  tell  them  the  truth." 

"What  will  be  the  truth,  anyway?"  Connie 
asked  sarcastically. 

"That  a  make-believe  relation  a  dead,"  Beth 
hastened  to  answer  Connie's  question.  "I  really 
think  we  had  better  not  wear  these  bows.  Crape 
don't  correspond  with  my  blue  dress  or  Connie's 
crimson ;  and  Mildred,  your  blue  merino  is  a  dread- 
fully bad  color  to  match  with  oxape." 

"Very  well,  I  won't  insist,  but  I  wish  you  were 
willing;  and  real  mourners  are  never  very  partio- 
ular  about  their  clothes,"  Mildred  said  sorrowfully. 
"Suppose  we  pin  them  on  the  back,"  Connie 
suggested,  with  a  brightening  expression;  We  can 
keep  our  feces  to  the  folks,  and  then  they  won't 
see  them." 

This  plan  was  cheerfully  decided  on;  but  Mm. 
Kent,  who  had  been  an  amused  listener,  concluded 
from  the  extent  of  Mildred's  bows  they  would  be 
visible  from  every  point.     Precisely  at  two  o'clock 


IM 


MILDMKD   KMMT'B   BEM. 


the  sleigh  drove  up  to  the  gate.  Paul,  in  hi«  eog- 
eraew  to  behohl  once  more  the  pmnoing  hones, 
darted  out  into  the  frosty  air,  his  badge  of  mourn- 
ing floating  airily  in  the  wind.  He  met  Douglass 
on  the  way,  whose  keen  eyes  caught  sight  of  the 
huge  bow  under  the  chubby  chin. 

"Why,  what   is   all    this   crape  for?"  he   asked, 
with  surprise. 

"We  have  lost  another  father,"  Paul  called  back 
proudly. 

They  had  so  many  limitations  it  was  a  comfort 
to  have  an  abundance  of  parents,  if  nothing  more. 
Douglass  decided  it  must  be  a  grandfather,  while 
much  amused  at  the  visible  token  of  mourning  un- 
der which  Paul  labored.  The  girls  met  him  glee-  ~ 
fully  at  the  door,  while  just  behind  them  stood 
Mrs.  Kent^  looking  so  happy  Douglass  reckoned 
the  family  must  have  all  their  mourning  well  in 
sight. 

"I  hope  you  have  not  lost  any  near  friend, 
Mrs.  Kent,"  he  tried  to  say  with  becoming  sym- 
pathy. "Paul  told  me  just  now  he  had  lost  a 
father  recently." 

"It  is  only  an  imaginary  one  that  MUdred  has 
been  supplying  them  with.       Her  fancies  are  so 


M.aaar' 


4 
>• 


Paul,  in  hill  eog^ 
pmnoing  hones, 
badge  of  mourn- 
[e  met  DouglaiM 
fht  sight  of  the 

for?"  he   asked, 

Paul  called  bock 

was  a  comfort 
if  nothing  more, 
mdfather,  while 
f  mourning  un- 
met him  glee-  . 
ind  them  stood 
[glass  reckoned 
>uming  well  in 

ly  near  friend, 
becoming  sym- 
he   had  lost  a 

at  Mildred  has 
fancies  are  so 


DIKUaatOMB. 


1«9 


strong,  she  impresses  them  on  the  children  •• 
i-ealities." 

''And  when  did  he  die?" 

"One  of  them  saw  him  drowning  in  a  dream, 
I  believe.  Mildred  has  been  trying  to  preserve 
the  proprieties  usual  on  such  occasioiw.  Per- 
haps I  do  wrong  to  permit  it,  but  they  take  so 
much  satisfacdon  in  their  make-believe,  that  I  have 
not  courage  to  forbid  them." 

*'It  cannot  do  them  any  harm,  I  am  sure," 
Douglass  said,  turning  around  just  in  time  to  see 
Paul  standing  diuigerously  near  the  horses'  heels. 

Hastily  saying  good-bye,  he  ran  down  the  gar- 
den-path, and  was  soon  at  the  child's  side,  swinging 
him  out  of  harm's  way. 

'  *'I  just  wanted  to  touch  their  legs,"  Paul  said 
by  way  of  apology,  ''I  wasn't  going  to  hurt  them 
one  bit." 

''  I  am  quite  sure  of  that ;  but  there  was  danger 
of  their  hurting  you.  No  one  knows  what  might 
happen  if  you  ever  tried  to  do  so  again." 

*''rhey  can't  Ute  behind  there." 

"No,  but  they  ought  kick,  which  would  prob- 
ably be  far  worse  for  you."  Paul  surveyed  the 
horbe»  with  increasing  interest,  and  resolved  to  have 


■,i 


,,.^.^:;a8}'" 


m 


170 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


Mildred  adopt  hones,  instead  of  parents.  A  span 
of  black  beauties  like  these  would  seem  very  real, 
if  v/uiy  Mildred  got  fully  interested  in  them.  He 
felt  sure  now  that  he  could  be  of  considerable  as- 
sistance himself  in  finishing  th-jm  off  with  harness 
and  other  necessary  points.  He  watched  them  out 
of  sight,  and  then  trotting  briskly  into  the  house, 
divested  himself  of  his  mourning,  and  announced 
to  Grace  that  he  was  glad  their  sailor  father  was 
no  more ;  for  he  was  going  to  get  a  span  of 
horses  in  his  stead. 

Grace  looked  surpiised,  and  concluded  to  take 
hers  off  too;  more  because  it  chafed  her  neck, 
however,  than  for  any  other  reason. 

If  the  drive  to  Grassmere  under  the  green  trees 
and  by  the  blossoming  gardens  had  been  a  delight; 
it  was  no  less  so  now  when  these  were  shrouded 
by  the  glistening  snow.  Mildred's  face  was  a  pic- 
ture when  they  came  in  sight  of  the  first  hem- 
lock tree  standing  in  its  white  shroud.  She  had 
never  seen  i:he  like  before,  save  perhaps  in  dreams, 
or  n  some  mysterious  fashion  through  the  eyes 
of  (^("ad  and  gone  ancestors,  in  which  way  alone 
we  can  account  for  the  naturalness  with  which  the 
altogether  new  and  strange  sight  first  appeam  to  us. 


RO. 

larents.  A  span 
seem  very  real, 

id  in  them.  He 
considerable  a»- 

off  with  harness 

atched  them  out 
into  the  house, 
and  announced 

lailor  father  was 
get   a    span    of 

ncluded  to  take 
hafed  her  neck, 
1. 

*  the  green  trees 
1  been  a  delight; 
9  were  shrouded 
'a  face  was  a  pic- 
t  the  first  hem- 
iroud.  She  had 
erhaps  in  dreams, 
[trough  the  eyes 
yhich  way  alone 
with  which  the 
rst  appeari  to  us. 


DiacvaaioNB. 


\n 


"Could  any  one  but  God  have  made  anything 
so  perfect?"  slyB  murmured,  with  a  raptture  that 
had  something  of  passion  Li  it. 

"Why,  of  course  not  I"  Connie  said  contemptu- 
ously.    "Nobody  ever  said  so." 

The  light  faded  out  of  Mildred's  face  while  sh« 
shut  her  lips  very  firmly.  But  there  was  beauty 
piled  on  beauty  in  such  profusion  at  every  step  of 
the  way  as  they  left  the  unsightliness  of  the  city 
uand  came  into  the  natural  scenery  of  the  strip  of 
country  before  they  reached  Grassmei-e,  that  she 
well-nigh  forgot  Connie's  snub ;  while  Douglass,  who 
looked  occasionally  at  the  eloquent  fc.e,  resolved 
that  such  a  young  vixen  as  Connie  De  Smythe 
should  not  be  a  third  time  invited  to  Grassmere. 
At  last,  as  they  drove  up  thri>iigh  a  plantation  of 
evergreens,  the  lips  so  firmly  sealed  flew  open. 
"  It  is  better  than  any  picture ! "  she  exclaimed. 
"I  wonder  if  tl  ^-  have  anything  in  heaven  pret- 
tier than  those  trees,  looking  like  white-robed 
priests  and  nuns." 

"You  are  the  silliest  girl,  Mildred  Kent.  Tc 
compare  heaven  to  those  spruce-trees  covered  with 
snow!  Why,  even  our  school-house  is  ten  times 
finer.  Why  don't  you  go  in  raptures  over  it?" 
Connie  said,  with  great  disdain. 


179 


MILDRED   KENT'S   HERO. 


"It  never  struck  me  as  being  pretty,"  Mildred 
said  humbly.  "It  makes  me  bappy  to  look  at 
those  trees,  as  if  I  was  listening  to  the  church- 
organ,  or  when  the  wind  moans  and  whistles  up  in 
the  attic,  that  seems  to  me  the  very  best  sound 
Grod  has  put  into  this  world.  I  cannot  help  feel- 
ing so,  Connie;  and  please  don't  get  angry  with 
me  any  more ;  and  I  won't  speak  about  those  things 
I  like  so  well,  if  I  can  help  it." 

"  Well,  of  all  things,  to  like  the  noise  the  wind 
makes  I  I  would  sooner  hear  cats  fighting ;  for  you 
know  just  what  that  noise  is,"  Beth  said. 

"I  expect  our  eyes  and  ears  are  not  all  nade 
alike.  I  have  often  wondered  if  things  looked  just 
the  same  to  me  as  to  you  and  other  people.  Trees' 
don't,  and  wind  music  don't  either,"  Mildred  said, 
looking  much  relieved,  for  it  was  a  source  of  pain 
that  she  and  her  companions  regarded  things  so 
differently. 

"  I  am  very  certain  you  little  girls  are  not  made 
at  all  alike ;  there  is  a  world  of  difference  in  you," 
Douglass  said,  quite  politely,  but  very  emphatical- 
ly. Only  that  they  were  his  guests,  it  would 
have  givrn  him  much  satisfaction  to  have  told 
Beth  and  Connie  out  of  what  very  coarse  mate- 
rial he  considered  they  were  composed. 


-r 


RO. 

pretty,"  Mildred 
ppy  to  look  at 
to  the  church- 
id  whistles  up  in 
very  best  sound 
annot  help  feel- 
get  angry  with 
out  those  things 

i  noise  the  wind 
ighting ;  for  you 
bh  said. 

e  not  all  nade 
ings  looked  just 
r  people.  Trees 
r,"  Mildred  said, 
a  source  of  pain 
Eurded   things  so 

Is  are  not  made 
fference  in  you," 
very  emphatical- 
aests,  it  would 
n  to  have  told 
iry  coarse  mate- 
>osed. 


DIBCUBSJONB,  ^^^ 

Connie  looked  up  curiously  in  his  face,  and  after  a 
doubtful  pause  said:  "Which  of  us  is  made  out  of 
the  best  stuff?  I  am  sure  Beth  and  I  eat  the 
best  food;  so  we  must  be  the  best,  I  think." 

"If  it  is  any  satisfaction  for  you  to  think  so, 
you  are  perfectly  welcome  t»  your  opinion, '  Doug- 
lass said  sarcastically. 

MUdred,  who  had  been  absorbed  in  the  leaf- 
less, gnarled  branches  of  a  huge  oak,  descended 
suddenly  to  the  society  of  the  human  rather  than 
vegetable  growths. 

"Please  don't  let  us  worry  about  which  is  best; 
only  God  reaUy  knows  that;  but  if  we  ask  Him 
to  make  us  good,  we  will  be  like  angels  by-«nd- 
by_8uch  glorious  beings,  maybe,  that  we  will 
wonder  why  we  ever  cared  for  anything  but  to  be 

like  God." 

"Don't  you  think  MUdred  is  the  very  oddest 
girl  you  ever  saw  or  heard  tell  of?  She  thinks 
far  more  about  the  angels  and  such  things,  I  do 
beUeve,  than  she  does  about  candy  or  new  clothes ; 
and  she  don't  seem  to  think  about  being  grown 
up,  and  the  good  times  she  is  going  to  have; 
but  all  her  spare  talk  is  about  what  a  happy 
angel   she    is  going  to  make.    I  declare  it  often 


^ 


174 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


makes  my  flesh  creep  to  hear  her  talk."  Con> 
nie  wound  up  her  harangue  with  a  pretty  shrug 
she  was  learning  to  imitate  from  their  new 
chambermaid. 

M  Perhaps  I  do  think  Mildred  is  the  oddest  girl 
I  ever  saw;  but  it  is  a  scarce  sort  of  oddity,  and 
a  kind  that  I  rather  like,  or  I  would  not  take  the 
trouble  to  bring  her  out  to  Grassmere,"  Douglass 
said,  a  trifle   sternly. 

Connie  looked  a  little  abashed,  but  persevered 
in  her  criticisms.  "Don't  you  think  it  is  just 
as  well  not  to  talk  about  dying  and  the  angels  so 
much?  I  try  not  to  think  of  them.  If  I  wake 
up  in  the  night,  I  am  just  sure  to  get  thinking 
about  them  and  Mildred.  I  'most  wish  sometimes 
she  had  u<)\er  come  to  our  school." 

"  But  Connie,  Death  and  the  angels  are  ahead  of 
you,  even  if  I  had  never  been  bom." 

^  But  you  make  me  think  of  them  so  much. 
You  can't  look  at  a  goodnsized  cloud  or  a  tree 
without  wondering  if  they  have  the  same  kind  in 
heaven,  or  even  as  good  ones." 

"Yes,  and  we  naver  hear  another  soul  speak 
about  those  things  outside  the  church.  One  don't 
mind  hearing  about  them    thoro;   for    there's    so 


■  ■  ■rif,^«iB»sEinw«»«*"'^"' 


Mfmmmm^H00ik 


£ 


90. 

ler  talk."  Con- 
i  a  pretty  shrug 
rom    their    new 

the  oddest  girl 
t  of  oddity,  and 
old  not  take  the 
imere,"   Douglass 

,  but  persevered 
think  it  h  just 
nd  the  angels  so 
lem.  If  I  wake 
to   get  thinking 

;  wish  sometimes 

»» 

gels  are  ahead  of 
m. 

them  so  much, 
cloud  or  a  tree 
the  same  kind  in 


DIBCV8BI0N8. 


175 


much  to  look  at,  you  don't  pay  much  attention  to 
the  preacher;  and  there  are  so  many  others  lis- 
tening, you  let  them  have  a  good  share  of  the 
preacher's  advice,"  Beth  chimed  in. 

The  horses'  heads  were  turned  through  the  gates, 
and  past  the  lodge  nestling  amid  the  huge  snow- 
drifts. Mildred's  face  grew  less  sorrowful  as  she 
looked  at  the  snow-covered  garden  and  statues,  and 
the  others  grew  so  interested  looking  around  at  the 
well-described  scene,  they  ceased  to  find  fault 
with  Mildred  and  the  angels. 


'-^-^ 


other  soul  speak 
urch.  One  don't 
:   for    there's    so 


•«* 


CHAPTER   XVI. 


A   JOY    BBPBATBa). 

^  I  /he  merry  jingle  of  bells  floated  up  in  the 
^  I  L     still,  frosty  air,  warning  Mrs.  Kent,  who 

^  had  been  listening  quite  anxiously  for 
some  time,  that  her  daughter  had  come.  A 
confusion  of  voices,  and  then  the  clear  good-wight 
went  floating  starward;  and  a  few  seconds  after^ 
ward  a  litde  muffled  figure  came  stumbling  up 
the  snowy  path. 

"  Oh,  mamma,  see  how  I  am  wrapped  up,"  Mil- 
dred exclaimed,  at  sight  of  her  mother  in  the 
door-way:  "Mrs.  Everett  said  my  cloak  was  too 
thin ;  and  here  is  something  she  bought  for  me  on 
the  way  here.  She  says  it  is  to  be  my  Christmas 
present.    We  all  went  into  a    store  together,  and 


/■ 


w;iwiiw<l«»»M'>«|Wji»»|  M"'^?l>  ■"'"■T^  IWif  ii.<ii''"|^'^ff 


A  JOY  BEPEATBD. 


Ill 


loated  up  in  the 
Mrs.  Kent,  who 
B  anxiously  for 
had  come.  A' 
clear  good-night 
w  geconds  after- 
e   stumbling    up 

rapped  up,"  Mil- 
mother  in  the 
f  cloak  was  too 
X)ught  for  me  on 
be  my  Christmas 
>re  together,  and 


I  tried  on  ever  so  many  before  she  waa  satisfied. 
It  cost  a  lot  of  money."  Mildi-ed  was  standing 
by  the  lamp,  now,  twisting  herself  out  of  shape 
trying  to  see  it  from  all  sides.  "It's  better  than 
Connie's,  for  she  said  so.     Is  it  not  beautiful  to 

be  rich?" 

"It  certainly  is,  if  one  has  a  heart  like  Mrs. 
Everett;  but  she  is,  I  am  afraid,  one  in  ten 
thousand,  or  perhaps   a  million,  of  ii« '.  !    -)ple." 

"  The  Bible  says  '  it  is  more  blessed  v  givo  than 
to  i-eceive';  and  of  course  it  must  be  so,  for  the 
Bible  never  says  what  is  not  true.  But  really  I 
can't  think  how  Mrs.  Everett  is  going  to  .^t  more 
good  out  of  her  gifts  than  I  do.  Hee  how  much 
good  this  blue  merino  frock  and  my  kid  boots 
have  done  me;  and  now  the  cloak,  it  is  so  lovely 
and  so  warm  I  "    ' 

"She  gets  her  blessing  in  her  heart.  Yours  is 
a  temporal,  and  hers  a  spiritual  blessing ;  and  that 
is  the  very  highest  tbat  even  God  can   give   us." 

"  I  expect  it  is,"  Mildred  said,  not  fully  con- 
vinced yet,  &s  she  laid  the  pretty  garment  on  the 
table  and  stood  stroking  it  lovingly. 

"Did  you  have  a  happy  afternoon?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  happier  even  than  the  other  visit ;  for  I 


178 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


knew  beforehand  how  veiy  grand  everything  was, 
and  so  I  did  not  feel  frightened.  We  were  in  the 
hott^e  aU  the  time,  and  I  saw  »o  many  pictures. 
Miu.  Evei«tt  played  for  us  on  a  great  organ  in  the 
music-room,  just  like  they  have  in  the  church;  and 
she  and  Douglass  sang.  I  believe  music  is  nearly 
as  good  as  painting;  only  when  the  sound  ceases 
you  have  nothing  to  show  for  it  except  the  mem- 

ory. 

"But  memories  can  be  very  delightful,"  the 
mother  said,  with  a  dreamy,  retrospective  look  in 
her  own  fair  face,  that  had  a  trace  of  sadness  in  it, 
as  if  her  memories  were  both  bitter  and  sweet." 

"And  tantalizing,  too,  mamma.      I  am  afraid  it 
won't  make  me  any  happier,  remembering  the  muaid 
and   pictures,  and   all   the   beautiful  things  I  saw 
there.    I  was  better  contented  with  our  home   be- 
fore ever  I  went  to  Grassmere ;  and  I  know  that  is 
wicked.    My  text,  not  long  ago,  was  M'hat  St.  Paul 
said  when   he  was  in  prison:   'In  wliatsoever  state 
I  am,  I  have  learned  thei-ewith  to  be  content.'    I  am 
far  better  off  than  he  was ;  and  yet  I  am  not  content 
with  our  little  house   and  old  furniture,   and  the 
pictures  and  harmonium."     Mildied  gkuced  around 
discontentedly. 


n 


•mr 


.A  JOT  REPEATED. 


179 


eveiything  was. 
We  were  in  the 
»  many  pictures, 
reat  organ  in  the 
lihe  church ;  and 
music  is  nearly 
lie  sound  ceases 
ixcept  the  mem- 

deUghtful,"  the 
ospeciive  look  in 
e  of  sadness  in  it, 
jr  and  sweet." 

I  am  afraid  it 
nberiug  the  musid 
iui  things  I  saw 
bh  our  home  be- 
jid  I  know  that  is 
ras  what  St.  Paul 
wliatsoe  ver  state 
«  content.'  I  am 
b  I  am  not  content 
iimiture,  and  the 
)d  glanced  around 


"■  But,  my  child,  you  ci^nnot  expect  to  begin  in 
your  religious  experience  where  St.  Paul  left  off. 
It  will  cost  you  many  years  and  a  thousand  heailr 
aches  to  learn  that  what  God  gives  you  is  jxist  the 
very  best.  Patience  is  a  flower  of  Hb  own  plant- 
ing,  that  grows  slowly,  and  with  most  of  us  gets 
sadly  stunted,  sometimes  well-nigh  deslanyed." 

Mildred  sat  looking  intently  into  the  fire  for  a 
good  while,  then  with  a  little  sigh  she  turned  away, 
saying:  "I  won't  be  wicked  any  longer.  I  will 
ask  God  to  make  His  flower,  Patience,  grow  well 
in  my  heart." 

wYou  can  think  of  Jack  Carver's  noisy,  unkind 
home,  or  the  smoky  room  where  Tommy  Tuffts 
stays  with  his  pareuJs  ~  one   cannot  call  it  living 

when  you  get  in  a  rt^pining  mood.     There  are  a 

great  mwiy  poor  homes  to  one  like  Grastsmere ;   and 
even  Mrs.  Everett  has  her  heartrachea,  you    may 

be  sure." 

« I  wish  she  hadn't  any.  It  wouldn't  make  ua 
any  more  content  to  know  she  was  sorrowful." 
Mildred  spoke  reproachfully. 

"  My  child,  it  is  the  lot  of  everyone  in  this  world 
to  have  some  trouble.  Even  the  Queen,  amid  all 
her   splendor,  has  one  of  the  saddest  faces  we  see 


'•aak 


180  MILDRED  KENT'S  HEJtO. 

anywhere.     The   higher   up   one   is   placed  in  thia 
world,  the    more   are  they  exposed   to  ito  bitterest 

storms." 

"And  yet,  I  mean  to  try  and  get  up  just  as 
high  as  I  can.    I  want  to  be  rich  and  famous  some 

day." 

«  Why,  MQdred !  I  thought  you  were  trying  to 
be  a  Christian,"  Mra.  Kent  said,  quite  shocked  at  the 
change  in  her  once  humble-minded  daughter. 

"But  there  must  be  rich  and  famous  people, 
just  as  well  as  poor  folks  without  ambition.  I 
think  God  would  prefer  having  those  who  do  love 
and  serve  him  truly  to  have  the  best  things.  I  shall 
help  poor  people  when  I  get  rich,  and  make  them 
happy,  like  Mrs.  Everett  does.  She  spoke  with 
a  seriousness  that  proved  she  was  confident  of  her 
future  success  in  conquering  fate. 

"We   should  strive  for   the  best  things;  but  I 
hai-dly  think  these   are  to  be  rich  and  famous." 

MUdred    made'  no    reply,  but  the   expression  of 
her  face  showed  she  was  stiU  unconvinced. 

"  But  you  have  not  described  your  visit  yet,  my 

child." 

MUdred  leaned  back  contentedly  in  her  chair,  with 
closed  eyes,  and  commenced  the  recital  by  first  de- 


•"mmmammumi 


placed  in  this 
to  its  bitterest 

get  up  just  as 
id  &mous  some 

were  trying  to 
shocked  at  the 
daughter, 
famoiis  people, 
t  ambition.  I 
se  who  do  love 
things.  I  shall 
&nd  make  them 
3he  spoke  with 
toniident  of  her 

}   things;  but  I 

and  famous." 

e   e)cpression  of 

ivinced. 

ir  visit  yet,  my 

1  her  chair,  with 
iital  by  first  de- 


A  JOT  MEPMATgD. 


181 


•orilnng  the  drive  out  and  their  reception  by  Mrs. 
Everett  in  the  great  hall,  where  a  bright  wood-fire 
was  burning  cheerily. 

^  You  would  forget  it  was  winter-time,  it  was  so 
warm  and  lovely.  Flowers  were  blooming  all  around 
—  great  lilies  and  roses  and  hyacinths,  all  mixed 
with  ferns  —  and  so  many  other  kinds  of  flowers 
whose  names  I  did  not  know.  Anyway,  I  could 
not  take  much  time  to  look  at  them,  for  tbe 
fire-light  looked  so  nice  in  the  picture-frames  I 
had  to  go  right  away  and  look  at  the  pictures 
inside.  After  a  while  we  went  to  the  music- 
room,  and  oh,  mamma!  it  was  grand  there.  I 
almost  wished  I  could  die,  if  heaven  was  any 
better.  Perhaps  it  was  selfish,  but  it  seemed 
such  an  age  before  I  should  get  old  and  be 
happy  again.  Mrs.  Everett  brings  more  lovely 
sounds  out  of  the  organ  than  I  ever  knew  there 
were  in  this  world;  and  her  singing,  sometimes,, 
was  like  a  bird's.  She  seemed  so  happy,  too,  to 
have  Douglass  stand  beside  her  and  tui-n  her  music. 
He  sings,  too,  but  not  like  her.  She  would  look 
at  him  as  if  he  were  nicer  than  anything  in  the 
world;  and  I  don't  wonder;  for  he  is  as  re- 
spectful  to  her  as  if  she  were    better    than    dia- 


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182 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


monds.  Once  she  called  him  her  knight,  and  it 
made  me  think  of  those  beautiful  old  days  I 
have  read  about,  when  men  were  so  brave  and 
trae,  and  women  so  fair  to  look  upon.  Maybe 
there  are  just  as  good  and  true  knights  now-ar 
days;  only  they  have  a  poorer  chance  to  prove 
their  goodness."  Mildred  opened  her  eyes  and 
looked  dreamily  into  the  glistening  coals,  as  if 
she  saw  there  the  old  castles  with  their  moats 
and  draw-bridges,  and  steel-clad  knights  and  fair 
dames  passing  to  and  fro  on  proudly  stepping 
hoises,   now  all  gone   to  dust,  ages  ago. 

"Ohl  isn't  it  a  wonderful  world?    I  can  see  all 
those  we  read   of  in   history  better  after  being  at 
Grassmere.    While  Mrs.  Everett  was  playing,  I  was 
looking  at  the   people   hanging  on  the  wall;    for 
there  are  a  great  many  of   them  looking   just  like 
life  in  the  music-room,  —  pretty  women   and  Uttle 
chUdi-en  in  handsome  frocks,  and  men  with  swords 
and  bunches  of  stuff  on  their  shoulders,  and  lots 
of  gold  coi-ds.     After  a  while  I  seemed  to  see  them 
walking  about  in  the  high  rooms  and  bowing  and 
talking   to   each   other,  until   I   got  so   interested 
that  I  forgot    the    music,  and   Mrs.   Everett,    and 
aU." 


A  JOT  nSFEATED. 


188 


knight,  and  it 
old  days  I 
so  brave  and 

upon.  Maybe 
knights  now-ti- 
lauce  to    prove 

her  eyes  and 
ng  coals,  as  if 
ith  their  moats 
nights  and  fair 
roudly  stepping 
s  ago. 
*    I  can  see  all 

after  being  at 
s  playing,  I  was 
I  the  wall;  for 
oking  just  like 
men  and  little 
len  with  swords 
dders,  and  lots 
ed  to  see  them 
nd  bowing  and 
t  so  interested 
.   Everett,   and 


"My  childf  you  must  not  allow  your  imaginar- 
tion  to  carry  you  away  so  far." 

"Is  it  wicked?"  she  asked,  looking  startled  for 
the  moment. 

"Perhftps  not  wicked;  but  I  do  not  think  you 
will  get  on  so  well  in  the  real  world  if  you  live 
so  much  in  the  ideal.  Your  life  probably  will  be 
a  facing  of  stem  realities  and  constant  work;  and 
it  will  be  well  for  you  to  look  upon  the  world  as 
a  place  of  conflict,  rather  than  of  rosy  day-dreams." 

"If  it  is  not  really  wicked,  I  shall  not  give  up 
my  thoughts,  for  they  will  help  me  to  work  better. 
While  I  think  of  other  days,  and  people  dead  and 
gone,  I  won't  mind  things  so  much  when  I  re- 
member how  many  have  lived  and  been  happy 
and  sorrowful ;  and  now  they  are  all  gone  to  dust. 
When  I  have  troubles,  they  won't  seem  so  hard  to 
bear  when  I  remember  others  had  the  same,  and 
have  got  over  them  all,  and  long  ago  forgotten 
them." 

"If  you  are  going  to  be  a  philosopher  as 
well  as  idealist,  I  won't  say  anything.  I  be- 
lieve you  are  getting  farther  on  in  some  respects 
than  I  or  most  persons  I  have  known." 

"  It  must  be  because  I  have  been  so  much  alone 


I  » 


't 


184 


MILDRED  KENT '8  HERO. 


with  the  children.  I  don't  think  nearly  so  much 
now  as  before  I  went  to  school.  Things  seem 
more  on  the  surface  to  me,"  she  said  reflec- 
tively. 

Her  mother  looked  at  her  curiously,  and  with 
some  anxiety,  wondering  if  the  mind  were  not 
developing  too  rapidly  for  the  little  case  it  was 
in,  and  wishing  hor  daughter  were  a  little  more 
like  other  children  and  less  of  a  spirit-maiden. 

"  Mrs.  Everett  was  so  kind  to  me,"  she  contin- 
ued sedately.  "After  they  finished  singing,  she 
came  where  I  was  sitting  on  a  tiny  sofa  just  large 
enough  for  two,  and  not  shaped  like  sofas  I  have 
seen  before.  She  walks  so  gracefully,  I  couldn't 
help  thinking  of  my  kitten  we  used  to  have,  that 
was  so  pretty.  Not  that  she  looks  the  least  bit 
like  cats  as  some  folks  do ;  but  one  graceful  crea- 
ture may  put  you  in  mind  of  another  far  below  it 
in  everything.  She  asked  me  if  I  liked  music  or 
painting  best.  I  thought  a  while,  but  coidd  not 
say  for  certain ;  but  at  last  I  said,  I  always  liked 
painting  best  until  to-day.  She  laughed,  and  it 
sounded  just  like  music,  and  said:  'That  is  a  very 
delicate  compliment;  one  would  fancy  you  had 
been  at  court.'      I  told  her  that  I  meant  it  for 


—  —  1 


A  JOr  REPEATED. 


185 


early  so  much 
ThingH    seem 
said    reflec- 


le 


usly,  and  with 
nind  were  not 
le  case  it  was 
)  a  little  more 
pirit-maiden. 
ae,"  she  contin- 
d  singing,  she 
-  sofa  just  large 
ke  sofas  I  have 
illy,  I  couldn't 
d  to  have,  that 
3  the  least  bit 
le  graceful  crea- 
kier far  below  it 
liked  music  or 
but  could  not 
I  always  liked 
iaughed,  and  it 
'  That  is  a  very 
fancy  you  had 
[   meant  it  for 


truth.  She  said;  'I  know  that;  I  could  not  im- 
agine you  telling  an  untruth.'  I  was  pleased  then, 
but  I  noticed  Connie  looked  hurt,  and  presently 
she  said;  'Why,  Mildred  tells  more  stories  than 
all  of  us  put  together.  She  makes  believe  she 
has  a  husband  at  sea,  and  that  we  are  her 
children,  and  he  was  going  to  bring  us  home 
such  quantities  of  handsome  presents,  only  Beth 
killed  him  the  other  night.' 

w*!  presume,  then,  it  is  out  of   respect    to  his 
memory  that  you  wear  all  this  crape.' 

" '  Yes,  Mildred  made  them  for  us,  and  we  only 
wear  them  to   please   her,'   Beth  said. 

"'We  pinned  ours  behind  and  meant  to  keep  our 
faces  to  you ;  but  we  kept  forgetting.  It  has  been 
a  real  burden  on  our  minds  ever  since  we  came,' 
Connie  said,  real  drossly  I  Then  Mrs.  Everett  looked 
at  Douglass,  and  I  thought  they  would  like  to  laugh, 
and  I  felt  very  badly.  But  in  a  minute  Mrs. 
Everett  spoke  so  kindly  to  me.  She  thought  it 
was  beautiful  for  me  to  amuse  them  in  that  way, 
it  brought  out  something  in  my  bi-ain  — I  forget 
the  name— and  thdn  we  were  not  thinking  of 
miworthy  things.  Beth  was  real  good.  She  said 
we  had  just  lovely  times  together,  and  tliat  I  made 


!  'i  : 


IM 


MILDRED  KENT'B  HERO. 


Paul  and  Gi-ace  bo  happy  at  Christmas,  describing 
the  pi-esents  Santa  Claus  had  prepared  for  them 
but  had  no  room  in  his  sleigh  to  bring  them; 
and  then,  only  think,  Mrs.  Everett  put  her  arm 
around  me  and  hugged  me  right  up  close  to  her, 
and  then  she  kissed  me  right  on  my  mouth.  But 
she  never  kissed  Beth  or  Connie,"  MUdred  ended 
very  complacently. 

"She  knew  they  had  so  much  more  to  make 
their  lives  bright  than  you,  my  child,"  Mrs.  Kent 
said,  with  grave  reproof.  She  was  sorry  to  see 
MUdi-ed  display  the  slightest  taint  of  selfishness  with 
her  young  companions. 

w  I  did  not  think  of  that.    I  just  beUeved  it  was 

because  she  liked  me  best,"  she  said,  quite  humbled. 

«*Is  it  a  disappointment  to  think  otherwise  ? " 

"I  am  afraid  so;  and  that  is  not  having  the 

Golden  Rule  in  my  heart,  is  it?"   she  sorrowfully 

confessed. 

«No,  dear,  but  we  of  ten  find  it  harder  to  think 
the  Golden  Rule  than  to  act  it." 

"I  should  not  be  glad  to  rob  Beth  and  Connie 
of  any  pleasure ;  for  I  do  believe  that  I  am  really 
better  off  than  they,  you  are  so  much  kinder  than 
their  mothers,  and  it  so  much  more  home-Uke  and 


■■■■■■■■ 


0. 

itmati,  describing 
spared  for  them 
to  bring  them; 
tt  put  her  arm 
ap  close  to  her, 
my  mouth.  But 
'  Mildred  ended 

I  more  to  make 
hild,"  Mrs.  Kent 
tfas  sorry  to  see 
){  selfishness  with 

8t  believed  it  was 
d,  qmte  humbled, 
ttk  otherwise  ?  " 

not  having  the 
'    she  sorrowfully 

harder  to   think 

Beth  and  Connie 

J  that  I  am  really 

much  kinder  than 

lore  home-like  and 


A  JOT  REPEATED. 


187 


coeey  here  than  at  their  homes.  One  would  get 
tired  even  of  Grassmere,  if  there  was  nothing  but 
the  splendid  things  to  look  at  without  love  and 
sociability." 

"You  are  finding  ii;    youth   what  many  people 
do  not  discover  in  a  life-time." 
"What  is  that?" 

"The  secret  tihat  happiness  does  not  consist 
merely  in  the  abundance  of  our  possessions,  bu. 
has  its  spring  in  an  unseen,  deeper  source." 

"To  help  others  is  one  way  to  be  happy,  I  be- 
lieve." 

"  Yes,  my  child,  and  a  very  real  way ;  we  need 
not  wait  until  we  get  rich,  either,  to  begin." 

"I  expect  there  is  no  one  so  poor  but  can 
help  somebody.  Jack  Carver  even  helps  those 
terrible  children  at  his  home;  and,  oh,  mammal 
that  reminds  me  we  were  talking  about  Jack  and 
the  mission-class.  Beth  and  Connie  were  telling 
about  their  handsome  Christmas  presents,  and  then 
Mre.  Everett  asked  me  what  Santa  Clans  had 
brought  us.  I  felt  a  little  ashamed,  but  said  you 
had  to  help  make  gifts  for  the  school,  and  we 
made  up  our  minds  to  have  our  Christmas  cheer 
in  making  others  happy.    She  asked  me  how  I  en- 


W 


188 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


joyed  that  kind  of  a   Christmas.     I   said  when  I 
felt  pretty  good  I  liked  it;  but  at  other   times   I 
felt    like    having   presorts    too,    like    other    folks. 
I    felt    very   badly    to    have    to    tell    her,    but    I 
couldn't  very  well   help   it    when   she    asked    me. 
She  looked   at  Douglaas  again,  and  I   think    they 
laughed   back    of    their   faces;  but  she  said   very 
kindly:  'You   are  an    honest-hearted   girl,   not   to 
make  a  heroine  of  yourself.*     Then  she  asked  about 
your  school  and  the  presents;  and  only  think  I  she 
is  coming  herself  very  soon.     Won't  it  be  beauti- 
ful if  she  invites   you    and    Mr.   Felton   and    the 
children  to  Grassmere?" 

w  That  is  more    than  we    can    expect ;  but    she 

may  give   us  some   presents  for  the  children." 
"I  hope  it  won't  be  tracts.     Jack  told  me   they 

were  getting  tired  of  reading." 

"Mr.    Felton    seems    to    think    they  have    very 

hungiy    intellecte.     He    spends    a    good    deal    of 

money  on  them  in  food  of  thht  kind,"   Mrs  Kent 

said,  smiling  at   Mildred's  i-emarks. 

"  I  am  very  tired   telling  about  Grassmere  now. 

May    I    finish    another    time?"    ^he    asked    very 

wearily. 

t»I  forgot  that  you  had  been    talking   so    long, 


t 


A  JOl  REPEATED. 


189 


[  said  when  I 

other   times   I 

ce    other    folks. 

3II    her,    but    I 

she    asked    me. 

I   think   they 

she  said   very 

ad   girl,   not   to 

she  asked  about 

only  think  I  she 

I't  it  be  beauti- 

Felton   and    the 

xpect;  but    she 

Le  children." 

Qk  told  me   they 

they  have  very 
,  good  deal  of 
and,"   Mis  Kent 

s. 

t  Grassmere  now. 

dhe    asked    very 

talking   so    long, 


my  child.     Your  descriptions  are  so  interesting,  I 
grow  selfish  in  listening  to  you." 

"If  only  the  school  is  invited  out,  Paul  and 
Grace  can  go  too.  I  think  I  could  get  courage 
to  ask   Douglass  for  them." 

"You  must  not  build  your  fancies  on  such  an 
uncertainty  as  that." 

"But,  mamma,  it  is  far  more  likely  to  happen 
than  I  was  to  get  an  invitation  in  the  first  place. 
It  won't  be  any  harm  for  me  to  plan  about  it," 
she  pleaded. 

"  C«^rtainly  not,  but  a  very  useless  waste  of  vtor 

agination." 

"Not  if  it  makes  me  happy  to  think  about  it; 
and  may  I   tell   the  childi-en?" 

"If  it  will  add  to  your  pleasure,  my  pet." 
The  mother  smil6d  lovingly  into  the  little  face  so 
near  her  own  that  she  had  but  to  reach  out  her 
hand  arid  draw  it  near   enough  to    kiss. 

"I  will  go  to  bed  now.  Maybe  I  won't  get 
to  sleep  for  a  long  time,   I  will  have  so    much 

to  think  of." 

The  mother  sat  brooding  for  a  long  time  over 
her  child's  future,  so  liable  to  be  full  of  pain  and 
unsatisfied  longing,  with  her  intense  artistic  nature. 


ir 


190 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


Then,  as  all  ti-ue  mothers  must  do,  she  held  her 
tryst  with  the  Friend  whose  help  is  always  avail- 
able and  always  perfect,  committing  her  chUd  to 
His  most  blessed  care. 


—  -1 


ILDRED'S  first  inquiry  the  foUowing 
Sunday,  on  her  mother's  return  fi-om 
-^  A'*'  the  school,  was  to  know  if  Mrs.  Everett 
had  been  there;  and  the  disappointing  answer  was 
given  that  only  Mr.  Felton  and  the  usual  crowd 
of  children  were  there. 

"She  Avill  come  some  time  soon,  I  am  sure," 
she  said  confidenUy;  "and  I  know  you  wiU  love 
her.  She  never  seems  to  be  thinking  about  her- 
self, but  how  to  make  others  who  are  near  her 
happy.  Won't  Betsy  Jones's  eyes  snap  when  she 
sees  Grassmere,  and  the  oi^  and  Mrs.  Everett 
playing  on  it ! " 


192 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


"Why,  when  will  that  be?"  Paul  asked,  Bur- 
pritted.     "  Are  they  going  to  liave  her  out,  too  ? " 

"  Ye8,  some  day,  all  the  rai»8ion-«chool,  and  you 
and  Grace." 

"Who  told  you?    Did  Mw.  Everett  say  so?" 

"No,  but  I  feel  it  the  same  as  other  things 
that  happen." 

"And    will    we  have    turkey  and  all    that,  as 

you  had?" 

"I  cannot  say  for  certain.  Sometimes  in  books 
they  just  give  lemonade   and  sponge-cake   to  poor 

childi-en." 

Paul    concluded  a   visit   to    Grassmere    fasting 
would    be    something   very    superior,    especially   if 
carried   there   by  those  black    horses.      For    some 
time  Mildred's  powers  of  imagination  were  greatiy 
overworked,  since  Paul   insisted   on   having  stories 
about  horses  alone.     Her  knowledge  was  very  slim 
of  animals  generally,  and  even  Paul  dared  to  criti- 
.  cise  her  descriptions  of  their  general  anatomy,  and 
more   particularly  the  harness  ,with   which   she  atr 
tempted   to   clothe   her  horses.     She   paid   especial 
attention  now  to  the  horses  she  saw  on  the  street, 
making  timid  inquiries   now  and    then  about  them 
from  her  schoolmates,  who  generally  laughed  at  her. 


-  -1 


0. 

'aul    HMked,  sur- 
lier out,  too  ?  " 
tiuhool,  and  you 

Brett  say  so  ?  " 
18    other    things 

ud  all    that,   as 

(letimes  in  books 
ige-cake   to  poor 

rassmere  fasting 
or,  especially  if 
ses.  For  some 
ion  were  greatly 
1  haying  stories 
fe  was  very  slim 
il  dared  to  criti- 
:al  anatomy,  and 
1  which  she  at* 
lie  paid  especial 
,w  on  the  street, 
then  about  them 
r  laughed  at  her. 


PAUL'S  riMST  SLKtOHKIDK. 


IW 


But  one  day,  summoning  courage,  she  stepped  up 
to  Douglass,  who  had  paused  for  a  moment  at  the 
Bchool-gate,  and  said :  *'■  Will  you  please  tell  me 
Homething  about  that  horse  going  past'/" — said 
horau  being  a  fine  animal  which  a  groom  was 
leading. 

"  Why  of  that  particular  horse  ? "  he  asked. 

'*It  is  such  a  beauty,  and  Paul  wants  me  to 
luive  make-believes  now  altogether  about  horses. 
I  Iiave  been  looking  for  a  pretty  horse  to  adopt, 
and  I  think  I  will  take  that  one." 

**  You  have  made  a  very  judicious  choice ;  his 
owner  asks   ten  thousand  dollars  for  him." 

Mildred's  eyes  sparkled.     *'  What  is  his  name  ?  " 

"Cadmor.* 

"Is  he  very  old?" 

"About  five  or  six  years,  I  should  say." 

This  surprised  her  more  than  his  great  value  ; 
not  so  old  as  Paul,  and  yet  the  immense  size  he 
had  attained. 

''  How  much  faster  he  has  g^wn  than  we  do ! 
In  some  things  horses  are  far  before  human  be- 
ings." 

"So  are  whales,"  Douglass  replied. 

Mildred  watched  him  until  the   groom  turned  a 


III 


\ht  i 


'■•^sassasarr 


194 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


street  corner   and   Cadmor    was   no    longer  to  be 

seen. 

"Thank  you  for  telling   me   so    much.     I    shall 
manage  nicely  now  for  a  long  while." 

"la  your  brother,  then,  so  fond  of  horses?" 
"  Oh  yes,  he  dreams  about  them  at  night,  and  he 
never  tires  of  talking  about  yours.     I  should  like 
so  much  to  know  their  names." 

Mildred  looked  up  wistfully  into  her  compan- 
ion's face. 

"  You  might  have  known  that  long  ago.  Prince 
and  Victor.  Ask  me  any  questions  you  wish  and 
I  will  answer  if  possible." 

"The  others  laugh  at  me,  and  I  get  afraid." 
"  Never  mind,  they  do  not  understand  you ;  that 
is  why  t^ey  laugh." 

"You  understand  me,  don't  you?"  she  asked, 
with  a  very  contented  air. 

"Pretty  well,  T  think.  But  see,  would  your 
brother  like  to  come  to  Grassmere  with  you,  and 
have  a  ride  on  my  pony,  and  see  the  horses? 
There  are  a  dozen  of  them,  I  believe." 

Mildred  gasped,  her  breath  being  nearly  taken  by 
such  a  dazzling  prospect. 

« I  hardly  know  how  he  could  live  if  I  told  him, 


-] 


PAUL'S  FIRST  SLEIOa-JtlDE. 


195 


longer   to   be 

(luch.     I    slmll 

f  horses  ?  " 
it  night,  and  he 
I  should  like 

0   her  compan- 

ng  ago.     Prince 
you  wish   and 

get  afraid." 
stand  you ;  that 

1?"  she   asked, 

Be,    would  your 
with  you,  and 

ee   the    horses  ? 

5ve." 
nearly  taken  by 

ve  if  I  told  him, 


but  he   would  though;  for  folks  hardly  ever  die 
with  joy,  especially  little  boys." 

"  He  must  come,  then,  if  it  would  give  him  such 
immense  satisfaction.  I  did  not  know  such  little 
fellows  cared  for  horses." 

"But  there  will  be  Gi-aasmere,  too.  I  believe 
he  thinks  it  is  letter  than  heaven." 
"How  does  he  know  about  it?" 
"He  goes  to  sleep  at  night  hearing  me  describe 
it ;  not  while  I  talk  about  the  horses,  though.  If 
I  knew  more  about  them,  I  could  make  »v  a  great 
deal  better  for  him." 

"If  there  is  nothing  to  prevent,  you  two  can 
come  out  next  Saturday;  remember,  just  you  two 
alone,"  he  added,  quite  imperiously. 

Mildi-ed  nodded  her  head  with  great  satisfaction. 
She  would  much  prefer  Paul  to  Beth  and  Connie, 
for  they  generally  made  matters  disagreeable  by 
their  remarks,  first  or  last.  She  could  scarcely 
wait  for  school  to  be  dismissed.  The  hands  of  the 
clock  moved  with  a  slowness  she  would  not  see 
repeated,  after  her  childhood  had  passed,  save  in 
some  moments  of  supreme  agony,  such  as  soon 
or  late  comes  to  every  matured  child  of  Adam. 
But   the   home  was   reached   at  last,  and   through 


4 


'i  -; 


196  MILDRED  KEST'B  HERO. 

the  frosted  window-panes  the  bleached  but  joyous 
faces  of  the  children  were  watching  for  her.  She 
moved  her  satchel  so  gleefuUy  that  Paul  assured 
his  mother  MUdred  had  some   very  good  news  to 

tell  them. 

He  opened  the  door,  letting  in  with  his  sister 
such  a  gust  of  cold  air  it  brought  a  sparkle  to  his 

own  eye. 

"Oh,  Paul!  I  have  such  news  for  you;  better 
than  any  of  our  make-believes.  I  would  never  dared 
to  have  gone  so  far,"  she  exclaimed,  nearly  out  of 
breath,  sinking  into  the  chair  by  the  fire. 

Paul  looked  greatly  excited,  whUe  the  mother 
dropped  her  work  to  hear  the  news. 

«You  must  not  die,  or  do  anything  like  that 
when  I  teU  you,"  she  said  anxiously. 

"Oh,  no,  I  won't;  just  let  me  hear  right  away 
what  it  is,"  he  said,  getting  very  impatient  at  MU- 
died's  precautions  for  his  safety. 

"  You  are  going  to  ride   on  a  pony  and   see  a 

dozen  horses.' 

In  that  instant  Paul  seemed    to  make  a   long 

step  towards  manhood. 

"To  ride  on  whose   pony?"    he   asked,   doubt- 


PAUL'S  FIRST  SLEIOH-RIDE. 


197 


d   but  joyous 

for  her.     She 

Paul   assured 

good  news  to 

nth  his  sister 
sparkle  to  his 

or  you;  better 
lid  never  dared 
nearly  out  of 
J  fire, 
le   the  mother 

thing  like   that 

7- 

ear  right  away 

ipatient  at  Mil- 


"  Douglass  says  you  may  ride  on  his  Shetland 
pony.  It  hae  long  hair,  and  such  a  lovely  tail; 
and  it  knows  ever  so  much." 

Paul  stood  speechless  for  a  few  seconds ;  but  his 
tongue  soon  got  over  the  shock  and  rattled  away 
as  gleefully  as  ever. 

"When  are  we  going?" 

"  Perhaps  on  Saturday." 

"Will  we  have  dinner?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  but  you  won't  think  of  dinner  after  yon 
get  there." 

"Yes,  I  will,  if  they  have  turkey,  and  other  things 

as  you  had." 

"  Eating  seems  to  me  the  very  commonest  sort  of 
pleasure  when  you  see  all  that  is  there.  I  am  sur- 
prised they  go  to  so  much  trouble  about  it.  If 
I  were  rich  and  had  such  ways  of  enjoying  my 
self,  I  would  hardly  think  of  eating  — I'd  just  take 
enough  to  keep  me  well  and  comfortable." 

"But  you  are  only  a  girl;  anything   does  for 

girls." 

"Girls   are  made  of  better  stuff  than  boys;  so 

Mrs.  Goose  says." 

"Mother  Goose  1"  Paul  retorted  contemptuously, 
"She  was  an  old  woman  herself,  and  how  could  she 
know?" 


198 


MU.DRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


"  You  wiU  think  girls  are  beautiful  when  you  see 
Mrs.  Everett.    She  was  a  girl  once,"  she  hastened 

to  correct. 

ul    think  she   is   now,   or    she   wouldn't  have 
such  a  jolly  son.    We  are  just  the  luckiest  family 
anywhere,"  Paul  said,  with  great  satisfaction.    And 
80  the  conversation  drifted  on  with  necessary -inter- 
ruptions  until  the  slowK^oraing  Saturday  afternoon 

arrived. 

Douglass  was  not  forgetful  of  his  promise,  and 
did  not  permit  more  important  social  duties  to  pre- 
vent him  from  coming  for  his  expectant  visitors.    His 
mother  smiled  at  his  late  developing  talent  for  enter- 
taining children,  but  still  encouraged  him.    He  got 
out  his  pony  and  the  littie  sleigh  he  had  on  pur- 
pose to  drive  her  in,  which,  with  a  little  crowding, 
would  be  large  enough  for  the  three  of  them,  and 
started  off,  the  tiny  silver  bells  jingling  not  un- 
musically to  Rattler's  short,  quick  step. 

MUdred  was  watehing  the  window  quite  as  anx- 
iously as  Paul,  for  she  had  a  double  anxiety.  It 
was  such  a  fine  day  Beth  and  Connie  might  take 
a  fancy  to  visit  Mulberry  Street,  and  that  would 
be  most  unfortunate,  since  tiiey  would  hardly  for- 
give her  for  going  without  them;  and  tiien  it  was 


-1 


PAUL'S  FIRST  SLRiail-RlDE. 


199 


when  you  see 
8he  hastened 

rouldn't  have 
ackiest  family 
ifaction.     And 
lecessaryinter- 
xlay  afternoon 

I   promise,  and 
1  duties  to  pre- 
it  visitors.    His 
alent  for  enter- 
i  him.    He  got 
he  had  on  pur- 
little  crowding, 
e  of  them,  and 
agling  not  un- 
step. 

)w  quite  as  anx- 
ble  anxiety.  It 
nnie  might  take 
and  that  would 
rould  hardly  for- 
and  then  it  was 


possible  that  Douglass  himself  might  not  come; 
for  she  had  heard  the  school-children  talking  about 
the  English  visitors  at  Grassmere  —  lords  or  earls, 
some  such  notables.     It  seemed  even   to   her 


or 


unsophisticated  intelligence  hardly  possible  that  she 
and  Paul  should  be   allowed  to  sun  themselves  in 
such  high  presence.    Paul's  eyes  were  getting  tired 
trying  to    watch   both  ends  of  the  street,   when, 
looking  around  to  consult  the  clock,  Mildred  cried 
out  excitedly :  "Paul!   Paull  look!  quick  1" 
He  looked,  and  such  a  vision  met  his  sight! 
The  tiny   horse    tossing    his    mane,  the    sleigh, 
shaped    like   a   shell,   with  its    fleecy    robes,    and 
Douglass  looking  anxiously  towards  the  house,  but 
still  standing  by  the  horse.    They  were  at  the  door 
in  a  moment;  Paul   crying   out,   as   he    ran  down 
the  path,   "We.  are  coming!"   and  followed  more 
sedately  by  Mildred. 

They  were  soon  tucked  comfortably  in  the  tiny 
sleigh,  and  Rattler's  feet  dancing  along  the  firm 
trodden  snow.  It  was  Paul's  first  sleigh-ride,  and 
'  he  found  it  enchanting.  His  bliss,  if  possible,  was 
heightened  when  Douglass  generously  put  the  reins 
in  his  hands  after  they  were  well  beyond  tlie 
city's  crowd.    Rattler  seemed  to   know  he  had  a 


m 


1 


200  MILDRED  KEST^a  HERO. 

new   driver;  for  he   tossed   hia   mane  and  skipped 
along  more  menQy  than    ever.    Douglass  was  sui- 
prised  at  the   skill   Paul   showed   in  handling  the 
lines ;  hut  Mildred  explained  that  he  had  practised 
a  great  deal  on  Grace,  who  had  already  grown  utr 
terly  sick   of   the   mention   of  horses.    The   litde 
lad  turned  of  his  own  accord   into   the  Gi^mere 
gates,  helped  in  part,   no   doubt,   by    Rattler,  but 
also   recognizing  the  place   from    Mildred's    oft-re- 
peated  descriptions.    He  drove   up   to  the  door  in 
fine  style,  so  absorbed  in  the  undertaking  he  scarce- 
ly noticed   the    imposing  house  and   grounds  that 
had   weighed  so  heavily  on  Mildred's  spirite,  but 
catching  tantalizing  gUmpses   of  the  statues  stand- 
ing  amid  the  snow ;  and  so  did  Rattier,  who  never 
could  get   over  his  fear   of  tiiese  strange  figures. 
He  reined  him  up  and  held  the  lines  whUe  Doug- 
lass   and   Mildred  jumped   out;  and  then   to  his 
regret  a  groom  came  and  led  Rattler  away. 

Paul's  eyes  were  glistening,  and  his  cheeks  crim- 
Boned  with  tiie  frosty  air  and  rapture  combined, 
making  him,  at  the  first  glance,  a  more  attractive 
bit  of  humanity  than  his  sister;  but  for  those  who 
could  see  deeper  than  average  beholdei-s,  her  face 
had  a  Cham  that  Paul's  could  never  claim,  — the 


-  -] 


PAUL'S  FIHBT  BLEIQB-RIDE. 


SOI 


)  and  skipped 
^lass  was  sur- 
handling  the 
had  practised 
idy  grown  utr 
8.     The   little 
the  Gitissmere 
T    Rattler,  but 
ildred's    oft-re- 
bo  the  door  in 
dng  he  scarce- 
grounds  that 
i's  spirits,  but 
(  statues  stand- 
tier,  who  never 
jtrange  figures. 
3S  while  Doug- 
d   then   to  his 
sr  away, 
us  cheeks  crim- 
»ture    combined, 
more  attractive 
t  for  those  who 
loldere,  her  face 
irer  claim,  —  the 


subtle  beauty  of  a  soul  attuned   to   fine  harmonies 
betraying  itaelf  in  every  varying  expression  of  the 
face.     Two   young  girls   were    coming    down    the 
broad  staircase  as  they  entered,  in  age  midway  be- 
tween Douglass  and  MUdred.     They  paused  a  mo- 
ment at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  but  as  Douglass  ap- 
proached followed  by  the  two  children,  they  came 
forward.     Douglass    introduced    them    rather    awk- 
wardly, as    if  just   realizing   the  wide   social  gulf 
between    his    visitors    and    himself;    but  Mildred, 
with  a  natural  ease  and  unconsciousness  of  manner 
that   was  the  very   perfection  of  breeding,  saluted 
them   cordially,   and   then  with   easy   grace   stood 
waiting  for  Douglass  to  send  them  upstairs,  whither 
on    her    two    previous   visits   she   had   first   gone. 
After  a  constrained  pause  Douglass  said:   "Where 
is  my  mother?"  • 

"In  the  drawing-room  with  mamma." 
For   a   few   seconds   he   stood    uncertainly;  and 
then,  turo'Ug  to  the  younger  of   the  gills,  he  said 
coaxingly,  "  AUcia,   won't  you  take  Mildred  some- 
where to  unwrap?" 

Alicia  very  cheerfully  complied,  while  Paul 
watched  Mildred  rather  wistfully  as  she  disappeared 
up  the  long   flight  of   stairs.     He   began  to  think 


'.4 


5 


i  i  '"i 


■■7-rW  »i-7-i5n,UB^™7 


'202  MILDRED  KSST'S  HERO. 

this   gi-eat  houHe  was  more  lonely  than  any  house 
he  was  ever  in;  but  in  a  veiy  short  time  MUdred 
was   Uvck   again,  when   they  entered   the  drawmg- 
room.     A  sbvtely-looking  gentleman  stood  near  the 
fire-place,  looking  mther  weary  and  dissatisfied,  MiL 
dred   thought,   and   by   the   window   were     sitting 
Mit».  Everett  and  another  lady,  much  stouter,  with 
a  well-defined,  red   face    that  bore   no  resemblance 
to  an  angel's,  MUdred  decided  after  a  close  inspec- 

tion. 

Mrs.  Evei-ett  came  to  Mildred,  clasping  the  litUe 
hand,  timidly  given,  in  both  her  own,  and  permit- 
ting her  hand  to  be  vigorously  shaken  by  Paul, 
who  had   opinions  of   his  own   on  the    matter   of 

hand-shaking.  ^^ 

"These   are   some  of   Douglass's   little  friends, 
Mi-s.   Everett   said,  glancing   towards  her   visitors, 
and  then  led  them  to  chairs  near  the  fire.     Paul's 
eyes    were   diizzled   by   all    the    wonders    he   saw, 
while  he    kept    forgetting   his    mother's   injunction 
not   to  sbH-e  with   too  much   curiosity  at  his   sur- 
roundings.    A  little  boy  by  another  fire  aci-oss  the 
room  kept  looking  at  him  with  a  surprised  scrutiny 
that  was  growing  painful,  untU  at  last  he  discov- 
ered it  was  his  own  reflection  in  one  of   the  huge 


PAUL'S  FIRtT  BLKIoa-RIDE. 


than  any  house 
■t  time  Mildred 
d   the  drawing- 

8tood  near  the 
diusatisfied,  MiL 
were  sitting 
ch  stouter,  with 

no  resemblance 
r  a  close  ini^pec- 

lasping  the  little 
jwn,  and  permit- 
ihaken  by  Paul, 
1  the    matter   of 

8  little  friends," 
rds  her  visitors, 
the  fire.  Paul's 
tronders  he  saw, 
ther's  injunction 
[)sity  at  his  sur- 
er fire  across  the 
urpnsed  scrutiny 
t  last  he  discov- 
one  of   the  huge 


looking^'  {seH.  As  he  sat  and  gazed  at  the  lofty 
ceiling,  the  walls  lined  with  pictures,  the  rugs  on 
the  floor  that  in  his  eyes  were  much  handsomer 
than  the  pictures  on  the  wall,  and  all  the  elegant 
furnishings  of  the  room,  which  was  large  enough, 
he  decided,  for  a  church  —  a  sense  of  desolation 
and  utter  loneliness  stole  over  him,  worse  than  he 
had  ever  experienced  at  home,  all  alone  with  Grace. 
He  took  out  his  han'lkei'chief  and  very  quietly 
wiped  his  nose,  at  the  same  time  whisking  away 
a  few  teai-s.  The  tall  man  by  the  fire-place  made 
him  feel  worse  than  he  would  have  done,  for  he 
looked  so  proud  and  silent,  as  if  little  boys  were 
of  no  more  account  than  beetles.  A  glance  at  Mil- 
dred occasionally  consoled  him  a  little,  for  she  was 
sitting  gazing  most  sereneb'  ""ound,  looking  the  pic- 
ture of  content.  Douglass  &  at  the  farther  end 
of  the  diawing-room,  moving  about  restlessly 
among  some  collections  of  engravings.  He  wanted 
to  find  something  to  amuse  Paul;  for  he  could 
see  by  his  face  that  the  little  fellow  was  quite 
miserable.  He  was  finding,  as  many  another  host 
has  done,  that  it  is  no  easy  task  to  happily  mix 
two  opposite  classes  of  society;  for  at  her  first 
glance  at  the  children  he  could  see  that  the  Lady 


204  MILDRED  KENT'S  HEM. 

Hermione  had  decided  that  they  were  not  of  her 
station.     Her  sister  Alicia  was,  Uke  himself,  some- 
thing of  a  democrat,  and  was  ready  to  be  friendly, 
if  duty  required,  with   the   cook   or  chamber-maid, 
_a  characteristic  that  was  utterly  displeasing  to  her 
stately  father  and   no  less   haughty  sister.     Doug- 
lass grew  discouraged  looking  over  the  engravings, 
for  they  were  mostly  high  art,  — so  high  that  even 
he    found    them    tiresome.     So   he   went    to   his 
mother   and    t«ked    what   he    could   do  to   amuse 
the   children.     Lady  Merton  looked  at  him   curi- 
ously. 

"Is   it  customary  in  America  for  lads  of  your 
age  to  interest  themselves  in  mere  children?" 

Douglass  colored.     "I  cannot  say  that  it  is,"  he 

replied. 

His  mother  came  to  the  rescue.  "  I  have  taught 
him  to  act  unconventionally  in  some  things.  He 
can  give  much  happiness  to  those  not  so  fortu 
nately  situated  as  he." 

"  A  dangerous  experiment,  as  you  may  some  day 

find,  my  dear." 

Her  ladyship  cast  a  meaning  glance  at  Mildred, 
who  had  risen  and  gone  softly  to  her  favorite 
picture,    gazing    up    at   it   quite    oblivious    of   her 


PAVL'S  riRBT  BLElOa-RIDK. 


205 


^ere  not  of  her 
)  himself,  Home- 
yr  to  be  friendly, 
r  chamber-maid, 
tspleasing  to  her 
Y  sister.  Doug- 
r  the  engravings, 
I  high  that  even 
le  went  to  his 
Id  do  to  amuse 
ed  at  him   curi- 

Eor  lads  of  your 
e  children?" 
ly  that  it  is,"  he 

"  I  have  taught 
some  things.  He 
se   not  so    fortu- 

ou  may  some  day 

rlance  at  Mildred, 
to  her  favorite 
oblivious   of   her 


aristocratic  neighbors.  Mrs.  Everett  smiled  fear- 
lessly up  into  her  son's  face,  who  stood  looking 
very   much   mystified  at  her  ladyship's   remark. 

"You  do  not  understand  my  boy.  I  expect 
him  to  be  a  knight  without  fear  and  without  re- 
proach. Besides,  he  is  too  young  to  make  dan- 
gerous entanglements." 

"She  is  a  remarkably  pretty  child— such  a 
one  as  Millais  would  like  to  paint.  Why  does 
she  study  that  picture  so   intently?" 

"  She  has  a  passion  for  art.  The  first  time  she 
was  here  she  stood  looking  at  that  picture  — 
and  it  is  the  best  in  our  collection  —  for  more 
than  an  hour." 

"Has  she  come  of  a  good  family?" 

"I   cannot  say.    Her  parents  are  English;  only 

a    few    years    in    this    country,    I    believe.     Her 

father    is    dead.     Would    you    like    to    talk   with 

her?     You  would  find  her  refreshingly  clever  and 

original." 

"Yes,  when  she  leaves  the  picture.  I  want  to 
watch  her  there.  Her  attitude  is  perfect.  I  would 
like  to  see  her  painted  in  that  position."  Doug- 
lass turned  and  looked  at  her  too,  and  than  his 
eyes   wandered   across   the   room  to  Hermione  and 


206  MILDRF.D   KKHra   HERO. 

Alicia,- the  one  a  dcBcendant  of  «tout.hearted 
yeomen  who  had  earned  their  bread  by  the  Hwe-.U 
of  their  brow;  the  othern  the  deHcendanti.  of  a  hne 
of  eavl«,  who  for  hundreds  of  years  had  lived  by 
the  Hweat  of  otlier  men's  faces;  and  yet  the  one 
looked  as  gently  bom  as  the  others. 

ult  is  very  odd  that  i)Oor  men's  children  should 
be  as  well-looking  as  the  rich.  I  never  thought 
of  it  before,"  he  said,  still  looking  at  the  girh.. 

"Indeed,  I  have  often  been  provoked  to  see 
them  looking  much  better,"  Lady  Meiton  said 
honestly.  "One  can  scarcely  tell  by  the  outward 
appeamnce  nowadays  which  is  mistress  and  which 
maid,  except  by  their  manner  and  speech.  That  is 
one    advantage    .ve    have.     Training  makes  a  vast 

diffei-ence." 

uBut  is  it  not  strange  that  the  children  of 
highly-trained  ancestors  are  not  handsomer  and 
more  intellectual  than  those  of  the  lowly?  Other 
animals  are  improved  in  that  way,"  he  said,  with 

a  puzzled   air. 

« Perhaps  if  our  very  best  types  of  humanity 
were  always  united  in  marriage,  a  portion  of  the 
race  might  become  greatly  improved,  -  the  product 
of  such  marriages,  for  instance;    but  the  Socrat»8 


-1 


f  Htoutrhearted 
by  the  Hwe;it 
idantD  of  n  line 
•8  had  lived  by 
,nd  yet  the  one 

children  should 
[  never  thought 

at  the  girls. 
)rovoked  to  see 
dy  Merton  said 
by  the  outward 
jtress  and  which 
speech.  That  is 
ng  makes  a  vast 

the   children   of 

handsomer    and 

J  lowly?      Other 

y,"  he  said,  with 

les  of  humanity 
I  portion  of  the 
3d,  —  the  product 
but  the   Socrates 


PAUL'S  FIRST  BLEIOB'RIDE. 

generally  get  the  Xantippes,"  the  Countixts  of  Mer* 
ton  said,   humorously. 

**  I  believe  that  God  so  willed  that  everyone 
should  have  the  same  start  at  birth.  Most  of  the 
really  great  ones  whom  past  generations  liiivo  be^ 
queathed  to  us  have  sprung  from  humble  iMrentage. 
There  seems  to  be  a  law  of  comi^ensation  running 
through  all  human  existence,"  Mrs.  Everett  said, 
as  she  rose  to  go  to  Paul's  relief,  for  the  pocketr 
handkerchief  was  coming  into  use  suspiciously  often. 
She  turned  to  Douglass :  — 

**We  must  do  something  for  the  little  lad,  or 
he  won't  think  Grassmere  the  happy  place  that 
his  sister  does,  if  some  diversion  is  not  soon  pi-o- 
vided."  Douglass  followed  his  mother,  while  her 
ladjrship  watched  them  with  a  wistful  look  on  her 
healthy,  good-humored  face.  If  one  of  her  girls 
could  have  been  a  boy  like  him,  she  thought, 
how  happy  she  would  be;  or,  better  still,  since 
there  was  such  a  plethora  of  children  the  world 
over,  if,  from  the  unlimited  supply,  one  boy  at 
least  could  have  been  bestowed  upon  her,  how 
glad  she  would  be  I  But  under  her  brocades  and 
velvets  her  heart  yearned  for  more  than  one  cov- 
eted blessing  that  would  never  be  granted. 


208  MJloneD  WEST'S  BtBO. 

Paul  ^v»s  taken  to  .ee   the   hor,e».      When   .p- 
pealed  to  re^peeting   the   »mu«ment  he    most   de- 
Ld,  a   very  emphatic   reply  was   gwen   m    favor 
of  the  ho,,o,.     Mfld«d    very  regretfully  tore   he.^ 
self  a»ay  fn,m   the  pietures  and  the  comfortoHe 
fl^ide  and  seleet  company,  for  she  rcaUy  enjoyed 
stealing  a  hasty  glance  into  the  *-  »'  »*'  ""^ 
.caving  her  romances  and  dreams  ahont  what    he 
saw  there.     She  insisted  on  following  Paul  to  the 
suhles,  assuring  them  it  was  a  necessity,  smce  he 
only  ™ted  to  hear  about  horses  now;  and  she 
nust   learn  aU   ahout   them   that  was   possible   u. 

order  to.  gratify  him. 

»  And  do  you  not  care  for  them  yourself?     Lady 

Merton  asked.  , 

.They  are  very  nice  before  a  carriage,"  Mdd«l 

said  evasively.    Even  his  Lordship  smfled   at  the 

way  slie  spoke.  ,         ..  •  i.^ 

Pough«s  found  his  spirits  rising  when  he  got  mto 

th;s..bles  with  Paul;  and  that  y™'""'  — 
of  horseflesh  could  hardly  be  persuaded  to  enter 
the  hou»>  again  even  for  dinner;  but  h»  appefto 
™  keen,  and   after   he   had   tasted   the   deUeroos 

viands,  he  forgot  atout  the  horses,  and  only  w.hed 
he  could  stay  always  at  Grassmete  and  regale  h« 
appetite  on  such  food. 


-  —  1 


). 


PAUL'S  FIRST  SLEIOH-RIDE. 


809 


63. 


When  ap- 
it  he  most  de- 
given  in  favor 
stfuUy  tore  her- 
the  comfortable 
e  really  enjoyed 
tee  of   each,  and 

about  what  she 
ing  Paul  to  the 
jcessity,  since  he 
8  now;  and  she 

was   possible   in 

yourself?"  Lady 

jarriage,"  Mildred 
ip   smiled   at  the 

J  when  he  got  into 
youthful  admirer 
irsuaded  to  enter 
;  but  his  appetite 
sted  the  delicious 
s,  and  only  wished 
ere  and  regale  his 


Mildred  went  home  that  night  with  the  welcome 
hews  that  on  the  morrow  Mrs.  Everett  was  coming 
to  St.  Malachi's,  to  the  mission-school.  She  de- 
cided her  visit  was  quite  an  agreeable  one,  but  not 
so  perfect  as  she  expected. 

"If  the  Merton's  had  not  been  there,"  she  said, 
"it  would  have  been  the  best  yet.  Those  great 
people  don't  seem  happier  than  other  folks,  and  I 
don't  think  it  pays  to  visit  Avith  them.  Are 
they  made  of  just  the  same  material  that  we  are  ?  " 

"Just  the  same;  did  you  think  they  were  bet- 
ter?" 

"  I  was  not  sure.  I  was  talking  with  the  young 
ladies  up  stairs,  and  they  e«>id  they  had  never 
visited  with  poor  people  before  —  I  told  them 
we  were  poor,  and  worked  for  our  living.  It 
didn't  seem  just  honest  not  to.  I  gave  Lady  Her- 
mione  my  hands  to  look  at.  She  is  the  prouder 
one,  and  every  one,  even  Mrs.  Everett,  calls  them 
Lady  Alicia  and  Lady  Hermione  ;  but  Douglass 
speaks  the  same  to  them  as  to  me  or  anyone. 
Lady  Alicia  laughed  when  I  showed  my  hands  to 
her  sister,  and  said  they  were  just  as  pi-etty  as 
theirs,  but  probably  the  blood  was  different.  I 
tried  not  to  mind,  but  it  really  waa  not  pleasant." 


1  f 


^Sp" 


210  MILDRED  KEST^B  HERO. 

«No,  I  presume  it  was   not;    but   we  all  meet 
with  the  disagreeable  in  this  world,  from  emperors 
and  kings  down.    Indeed,  I  do  not  know  but  they 
have  the  hardest  lot  of  any  -  to  be  supported  by 
the  tax-payers  as  so  many  drones  -^^^/^  °^ 
life,  and    .e  newspapers  publishing  broadcast  U^e- 
complaints  of  these  who  cannot  see  why  some  should 
have  so  much  without  any  effort  of  their  own,  and 
others  give  their  st.-sngth  to  support  them  m  idie- 

Tdo  you  meet  with  disagreeable  people,  mam- 

""l  I  often  think,  with  more  than  my  share.  Some- 
times those  I  work  for  expect  impossibUities.  They 
have  never  had  to  work,  and  I  do  not  think  they 
have  the  same  patience  as  we  who  have  so  many 
difficulties  to  surmount;  but,  dear,  it  is  a  ve^ 
necessary  discipUne,  and  I  do  not  usually  suffer 
very  much  under  the  severest  criticisms. 

ul  mean  t«  be  brave,  too;  and  aft«r  all  it  is  a 
littie  hard  for  tii^e  high-bom  people  to  know  they 
are  made  aft«r  the  same  patt«m  as  the  poorest 
people  in  the  world." 


— — 1 


t   we  all   meet 

{rom  emperors 

know  but  they 

ye  supported  by 

in  the  hive  of 

g  broadcast  the 

yhy  some  should 

[  their  own,  and 

rt  them  in  idle- 

)le  people,  mam- 

ny  share.  Some- 
wsibUities.  They 
o  not  think  they 
0  have  so  many 
ar,  it  is  a  very 
ot  usually  suffer 
ticisms." 

il  after  all  it  is  a 
)ple  to  know  they 
a   as   the   poorest 


CHAPTER  XVra. 

AT  THE  MISSION-SCHOOL. 

^HE   children   consented  to   keep  house   the 
following  day,  so  that  MUdred  could  go  to 
the  school.    She   was  so  eager  to   see   if 
Betsy  Jones  and  Jack  Carver  would  be  as  chai-med 
with  the  gracious  mistress  of  Grassmere  as  she  had 
heen.    Her  own  satisfaction  was  doubled    as  she 
thought  how  pleased  all  the  children  would  be  with 
their  beautiful  visitor,  ©specially  if  she  invited  them 
to  visit  her.    Mrs.  Kent  was  obUged  to  go  early ;  for 
her  flock  were  too  punctual  in  presenting  themselves 
a  half-hour  or  more  before  the  appointed  time,  and 
they  were  not  always  a  law-abiding  crowd;  espe- 
cially since  their  number  had  been   so   largely   in- 
creased    since  the   Christmas-tree.      Mildred    whis- 
pered to  Jack  Carver  that  Mrs.  Everett  was  coming. 

au 


B- 


*ii**P'^*" 


212 


MILDRED  KENT ^8  HERO. 


.Why,  8he'8  a  regular  sweU!  what's  she  coming 

for?"  ,     ,         ,.   , 

uTo  encourage   us,  I  expect,  "  Mildred  repUed^ 

xuther  uncertain,  when  the  question  was  put,  which 
was  really  he;  reason  for  visiting  them. 

«It  seems  to  me  we  come  weU  enough  without 
encouragement  from  swell  folk,"  Jack  said,  a  littie 

sulkily.  ,  „ 

.But  she  is  so  kind,  I  know  you   wont  mind, 

Mildred  pleaded. 

"Yes,  they're  kind  to  us  the  same  as  they  are 
to  dogs  and  other  animals;  but  I  guess  they  don't 
aUow  we  are  made  out  of  as  good  stuff  as  them. 

Mildred's  face  flushed,  for  she  could  not  consci- 
entiously  contradict  Jack's  assertion  after  hei-  in- 
terview with  the  Mertongirk.  "But  we  are.  Jack; 
even  Bet«y  Jones  is  made  like  the  Earl  of  Mertons 
daughter  that  I  saw  *t  Gi-assmeie.  If  anything, 
I  should  say  her  material  is  the  healthiest." 

Jack  looked  critically  at  Betsy,  who  was  convers- 
i„g  with  another  girl,  and  her  eyes  wei-e  snapping 
and  lips  moving  viciously. 

«I  don't  reckon  Betsy  very  extra  clay  myself. 
She's  not  to  be  mentioned  alongside  of  your 
mother." 


-1 


t'a  she  coming 

ildred   replied, 

Bras  put,  which 

em. 

nough  without 

;k  said,  a  little 

I   won't  mind," 

le   as   they   are 
;ue88  they  don't 
stuff  as  them." 
)uld  not  consci- 
m   after  hex*  in- 
iut  we  are.  Jack ; 
Earl  of  Mertotf B 
e.     If  anything, 
lealthiest." 
who  was  convers- 
38  were  snapping 

:tra   clay    myself, 
ongside    of    your 


AT  THE  MiaaiOS-BCHOOL. 

«I  am  'most  puzzled  about  people  myself;  but 
the  difference  in  them  is  a  birth-mark,  and  not  be- 
cause their  parents  were  lords,  or  poor  people.' 

«I  don't  know  much  about  lords  and  earls  my- 
self," Jack  confessed.  "  Don't  know  as  I  ever  see 
one;  but  I've  read  lots  about  them  in  story-papers; 
and  a   good    many   of  them   are    a  precious    bad 

lot." 

"I  do  not  think  they  are  so  very  happy  as  one 
might  think."  Mildred  based  this  conclusion  on  the 
very  dissatisfied-looking  lord  she  had  seen  the  day 

before. 

"They  are  useless  critters  naoBtly,  and  don't  do 
much  but  visit  at  each  other's  houses,  and  shoot 
poor,  helpless  animals  that  don't  harm  anything. 
I'd  sooner  hoe  potatoes  or  sell  newspapers,  than  be 
so  useless,"  Jack  said,  with  fine  scorn. 

"Maybe  they  are  not  like  the  ones  you  read 
about.      Stories    cannot   always    be   believed,  you 

know." 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say  tiiere  are  some  good  specimens ; 
but  I  guess,  your  mother  does  more  than  a  dozen 
average  ones." 

"I    have   read   of   some   excellent  ones  in  his' 

tory." 


.ii  tarn 


»4 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

Oh,  yes,  I  know  about  them;  but  take  the  good 
and  bad  together,  the  world  would  be  just  as  well 
off,  I  guess,  if  they  wei-e  all  shipped  off  to  the 
moon,  or  somewheres."  .    ,         * 

MUdred  had  a  high  opinion  of  Jack's  judgment 
and  knowledge,  for  he  came  very  often  of  an  eye- 
ninK  and  read  her  mother's  books  and  talked  with 
her!  as  she  sat  at  her  sewing,  about  theii-  contenta ; 
and  some  of  their  convereation  sounded  very  learned 
and  superior  to  her,  accustomed  solely  to  her  own 
little  brother  and  sister,  and  the  children  at  school, 
whose  highest  flighte   of    fancy  were  about  theur 
clothes  or  their  games. 

The  school  opened,    Mr.  Felton,  in  his  thm,  un- 
musical    voice,   reading    the    prayers,    while    M«. 
Kent,  according  to   custom,   had  the  young  folks 
g«,uped  around  the   organ,  whei^   for    a  half-hour 
they   sang   the   Sabbath^bool  melodies  by   which 
the  musical  t»ste  of  the  rising  generation  is  mainly 
fomed.    Betsy  Jones's  voice,  through  Mi-s.  Kent « 
careful  tmning,  had  lost  much  of  it«  shrill,  squeak, 
ing  quaUty ;    and  very  much  against  her  judgment 
she   was  learning   to   sing   softly.    She   was   very 
quick  in  music,  and  had  now  become  the  acknowl- 
edged    leader    of    singing    in    the   school;  and  in 


,^l- 


take  the  good 
just  as  well 
off    to  the 

}k'8  judgment 
en  of  an  eve- 
td  talked  with 
theii-  contents ; 
)d  very  learned 
(ly  to  her  own 
Idren  at  school, 
re  about  their 

n  his  thin,  un> 
8,  while  Mrs. 
le  young  folks 
:or  a  half-hour 
tdies  by  which 
ation  is  mainly 
gh  Mra.  Kent's 
B  .shrill,  squeak- 
t  her  judgment 
She  was  very 
le  the  aoknowl- 
school ;   and  in 


many  respects  a  most  excellent  one  she  was,  for 
outside  the  school  her  discipline  was  much  stricter 
tihan  Mrs.  Kent's  inside,  and  she  compelled  them 
to  join  in  the  musical  part  of  the  service,  no 
matter  how  unlike  it  they  might  feel.  Mildred 
joined  with  them  in  the  singing ;  but  Betsy  soon 
discovered  tluit  Mrs.  Kent's  dainty  daughter  was 
not  of  much  account  in  swelling  their  harmonies. 
Mildred's  sympathies  were  strongly  drawn  out  just 
then  towards  Tommy  Tuffts,  who  could  not  sing 
at  all,  and  whose  eyes  were  so  ill  matched. 
Plainly  he  was  one  of  the  unfortunate  ones,  tow- 
ards whom  Nature  had  apparently  acted  in  a  very 
unfriendly  &shion. 

■  Forgetting  the  singing,  and  even  Mrs.  Everett's 
expected  advent,  she  went  off  into  dreamland, 
planning  some  grand  surprise  from  fate  for  Tom- 
my somewhere  along  the  future,  whereby  he  might 
become  rich  and  happy,  notwithstanding  his  infirm- 
ities of  voice  and  vision.  Betsy  reached  around 
and  gave  her  a  punch.  ^Why  don't  you  sing?" 
she  muttered.  She  never  allowed  any  child  with 
a  bit  of  song  in  it  to  stand  mute  during  this 
exercise.  Mildred  very  obediently  took  up  hei 
broken  strain,  but  in  a  half-hearted  way  very  dis- 
pleasing to   Betsy. 


• « 


lie  MILDRED  KBNT'B  BKRO. 

A  rustie  ftt  the  door  drew  all  eyes.    Even  Mr. 
Felton,  sitting  near  the  door,  got  up  and,  in  his 
blundering,  nearsighted  fashion,  went  to  see  who 
was   coming.    A    break    in    the  harmony    warned 
Mre.  Kent  that  the  chUdren's  attention  was  being 
distracted;    but    Betsy   Jones,  in  her   swift,  keen 
way  taking  in  the  appearance  of  the  newH^omers, 
and  reckoning  they  were  something  out  of  the  oi> 
dinary,  .bui«t  out  with  fresh  force,  casting  at  the 
same   time   a    warning    glance    around    the    ch«s. 
They  came  out,  in  consequence,   tiiumphantly  at 
the  end  of  the  verse,  and  Betsy  would  have  given 
a  good  deal  to  know  how   much    impressed    the 
strangers  were  witii  her  singmg.    WhUe  tiiey  sang 
the  next  stanza,  Betsy  used  eye  and  tongue  to  the 
utinost  of  her  powers.    She  had   never  seen  quite 
such  a  vision  of  middle^ged  loveliness  as  this  lady 
who  had  just  shaken  hands  with  Mr.  Felton,  and 
was  now  standing  with  a  tall,  handsome  lad  at  her 
side,  kindly  regarding  the  group  around  the  organ. 
Betsy  was  well  enough  acquainted  with  the  fashions 
to  admire  the  rich  grey  velvet  dress  and  ele^nt 
furs,  with  the  pretty  Paris  bonnet  tiiat  seemed  a 
fitting  crown  to  the  perfect  costume. 

When  Mrs.  Kent  ceased  pkying,  and  her  tongue 


8.  Even  Mr. 
and,  in  his 
t  to  see  who 
mony  warned 
on  was  being 
3r  swift,  keen 
le  new-comers, 
out  of  the  or- 
casting  at  the 
tnd  the  class, 
riumphantly  at 
old  have  given 
impressed  the 
^hile  they  sang 
tongrue  to  the 
ver  seen  quite 
)88  as  this  lady 
[r.  Felton,  and 
ome  lad  at  her 
und  the  organ, 
th  the  fashions 
ss  and  elegant 
that  seemed  a 

md  her  tongue 


■MMtM 


AT  THE  MIBBION^CHOOL. 

was  at  liberty,  Betsy  murmured  with  more  reverence 
than  she  usually  exhibited :  **  My,  but  she's  a  stun- 
ner I "  She  was  surprised  at  the  ease  with  which 
Mildred  took  her  mother  to  the  strangers  and  in- 
troduced them,  and  equally  surprised  that  if  her 
dress  was  plain,  Mrs.  Kent  appeared  as  much  like 
a  lady  as  the  best  she  saw  luxuriously  reclining 
in  their  carriages  on  Fifth  Avenue  or  Broadway. 
Her  mind  was  active  and  her  perceptions  keen ;  and 
just  then  came  to  her  mind  a  desire  to  be  dif- 
ferent from  what  she  was.  She  looked  at  Mildred, 
and  instinctively  felt  that  if  her  clothes  were  no 
better  than  her  own,  or  the  family  purse  not 
any  better  filled,  she  had  something  utterly  beyond 
what  she  had  ever  attained  with  all  her  vaunted 
smartness.  The  other  children,  for  the  most  part, 
were  looking  with  surprised,  stolid  faces;  but 
Betsy's  was  far  different.  A  new  leaf  had  just  been 
turned  in  her  book  of  life;  and,  although  the  un- 
derlying elements  of  her  nature  were  of  a  naturally 
coarse  fibre,  her  eyes  were  clear  enough  to  see  there 
was  something  above  her;  and,  with  her  will- 
power, to  see  this  and  desire  its  attainment  was 
a  long  step  on  the  way  of  her  ultimately  get- 
ting the  shadow,  even  if  the  substance  was  be- 
yond her  reach. 


218  MILDRED  KEST'8  HERO. 

uMrs.  Everett  caine  up  the  able  vrith  M«.  Kent 
and  took  her  seat  among  the   children,   quite   ob- 
liviouH,  api>arently,  of  the  fact  that  patched   boots 
and  garments  were  brushing  her  velvet  gown    and 
little   hands   slyly   stroking   the   soft    fur  of    her 
wrap.     Adelphine  Carver  exclaimed,  quite  audibly, 
to  a  companion:   "It's   nicer   than    a    pussy   cats 
coat.     Jack's  face  turned   crimson   under  the   com- 
bined effects  of  his  sister's  effrontery  and  the  pres- 
ence  of  a  lad  so  much  better  dressed  and  appeal^ 
ing  than  himself.     A  jealousy  seized  him  lest  Mrs. 
Kent  and  MUdred  would  care  more  for  the  son 
of    pride   and  luxury,  as  he  chose   to    stigmatoe 
Doughiss  Everett,  than  for  himself.    With  t^e  ex- 
ception  of  Oie  irrepressible  Adelphine,  the  chddren 
were    the    pink    of   propriely,    and   sat    regarding 
Mrs.  Everett  with  round,  curious  eyes;  while  she 
told  them  of  simihir  schools  she  had  attended,  and 
the    noble    men   and  women  whom  she  had  met 
working  in  such  schools,  some    of    them   the  pro- 
duct  of  just  such  efforte.    Jack  forgot  has  t«>ubles 
whUe  she   talked,  so   interested    did  he    grow   in 
descriptions  of  some  who    had  got  tiieir  t^iming 
in   similar   schools,  ahd  at  last  securing,  in  spite 
of    privations,   honorable    positions    in  the  world. 


-t 


ith  Mn.  Kent 
«n,   quite   ob> 
patched   boots 
et  gown,  and 
fur  of    her 
quite   audibly, 
a    piusy   cat's 
nder  the   com- 
T  and  the  pres- 
ed  and  appear^ 
him  lest  Mrs. 
re   for  the  son 
to    stigmatize 
With  the  ex- 
le,  the  children 
sat    regarding 
l^es;  while  she 
d  attended,  and 
I  she  had  met 
them   the  pro- 
got  hjs  troubles 
1   he    grow   in 
their  training 
iuring,  in  spite 
in  the  world. 


AT  THE  MiaaiON-BCHOOL. 

w  Only  last  summer,"  she  went  on  to  say,  ^  I  had 
a  gentleman  visiting  me  who  was  attracted  to  a 
ragged  school  in  London  by  the  music  and  warm 
room — a  ragged  waif,  homeless  and  friendless. 
His  mind  waked  up  there  —  and  he  h.id  a  fine 
mind  —  and  with  the  help  and  sympathy  of  his 
teachers,  he  went  on  step  by  step  until  now  he 
is  a  power  in  the  world,  and  the  best  in  the 
land  are  proud  to  have  him  claim  them  for  friends. 
But  you  need  not  be  ambitious  to  become  celebrated 
or  rich.  Only  a  few  have  the  gifts  to  achieve 
this;  and  great  gifts  are  the  very  scarcest  things, 
I  believe,  in  this  world;  but  you  can  all  be  good. 
A  very  great  man.  one  whose  name  will  be  re- 
membered quite  as  long  as  any  who  have  lived  in 
this  century,  has  said :  *  'Tis  only  noble  to  be 
good.'  After  this  brief  life  is  ended,  you  will 
have  leisure  and  opportunity  in  other  worlds  to 
be  great  and  the  companion  of  kings  and  mighty 
ones." 

Mildred's  eyes  shone.  It  was  so  comforting  to 
know  that  Mrs.  Everett  was  on  the  way  to  heav- 
en, and  was  going  to  have  the  very  best  gifts  of 
two  worlds,  perhaps  of  many  worlds;  for  lUiildred 
was  forming  a  strong  friendship  for  the  starry  hosts 


220  MILDHKD  KENT'S  HERO. 

which  Hhe  Studied  long  and  lovingly  through  the 
uplifted  blinda  of  her  l«d-room  windows  when  her 
mind    was    too  full    of   thoughts   for  her  to  sleep. 
Ali-eady   she   had   selected   staivclustere    as    si»ecial 
Hcenes  for  study,  when  she  had  passed   on   to    the 
encUess  kism^  of  eternity.     Jack  Carver's  eyes  had 
a  gleam  in  them  that  revealed  an   intelligent  soul 
somewhere    in    his    organism  which    he    especially 
designated  me;   and   Betey  Jones,  too,  had    an   up- 
lifting of  countenance  as    if   some   sudden    insputv 
tion  had  come  to  her   to    make    her  life   a    better 
thing  than  she  had   intended.     The   others  looked 
more    or   less    interested,    but    Adelphiue    Carver 
still  stroked  the  fur  which  she   found  softer  than 
-..f  of  her  ill-kept  cat  at  home,  whom  she   petted 
and  abused  by  turns.     The  chUdren  looked  consid- 
ei^bly  alarmed  when  they  found  Mrs.  Everett  was 
to  be   their   teacher    for    that  day.      Their    igno- 
ranee  of  the  Bible   made   them   shy  of  catechizmg 
strangers.       The    lesson    went    very  smoothly   on, 
however,  while  their  gentle  catechist  scarcely  asked 
a  question  at  all,  but  encoumged   them  to   volnn- 
teer  any  remaik    or   question  they  wished.     They 
were  not  eager   to    i^spond,  and  her   request   was 
followed  by  a  constrained  silence;  when  she  again 


.  v^'wwaww  ■  "-* 


-t 


)r  tlirough   the 

OW8  when  her 

*  her  to  Hleep. 

era    as    Hjiecial 

ed   on   to    the 

irver's  eyes  liad 

intelligent  houI 

he    especially 

o,  had    an   up* 

sudden   inspiitir 

r  life   a    better 

I   others  looked 

elphine    Carver 

ind  softer  than 

liom  she   petted 

1  looked  consid- 

rs.  Everett  was 

Their    igno- 

r  of  catechizing 

y  smoothly   on, 

)t  scarcely  asked 

them  to   volun- 

wished.      They 

er   request   was 

when  she  again 


AT  THE  MIBBIOS'SCIIOOL. 

naked  them  if  there  was  anything  they  would  like 
her  to  explain,  Adelphine  CaiTer,  whose  attention 
was  still  absorb«<l  in  the  fur  cloak,  piped  up  in 
her  shrill,  uncultured  voice :  ^  Is  tliis  made  of 
pussy  cats?" 

An  instantaneous  display  of  ivoiy  followed  lier 
question,  even  Mr.  Felton,  who  was  hovering 
near,  joining  in  the  general  smile.  Jack  looked 
as  if  he  would  like  to  shake  Miss  Adelphine,  but 
Mi«.  Everett  answered  her  question  with  all  seri- 
ousness. '*  It  is  not  made  of  the  pussy's  fur.  I 
will  send  you  a  book  that  will  tell  you  all  about 
it,"  she  said,  with  a  genial  smile.  Adelphine  was 
silent  for  a  while,  but  still  busily  inspecting  the 
fui'. 

*'You  kill  'em  to  get  their  skins?"  she  asked. 

"Certainly  they  must  be  killed." 

♦'Well,  I  wouldn't  kill  my  pussy  to  wear  her 
clothes,"  she  said  scoi-nfuUy.  Jack's  eyes  blazed, 
and  he  made  a  motion  to  carrj'  off  the  obnoxious 
prattler;  but  Mrs.  Kent  intercepted  him.  Mi-s. 
Everett  folded  the  restless  little  hand  in  her  own 
while  she  said :  '♦  God  gives  us  the  animals  for 
clothing  as  well  as  food.  Your  own  shoes  once 
formed  the  coveiing  of  some  poor  animal  slain  to 
make  shoes  for  little  feet" 


222  MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

Adelphiue  craned  her  neck  over  to  look,  and 
stretching  out  her  feet,  revealed  a  pair  of  vexy 
ooaise,  well-worn  shoes. 

..I  wish  they'd  m«le  'em  oat  of  a  nicer  ammd, 
then,"  she  said  totfully,  "like  hers,  there,"  -  pomt- 
W  to  MUdred-s  neat  kid  h.,ots,  U.at  were  stdl 
dig  service  as  host  since  that  happy  summers 
iay  she  found  them  waiting  for  her  at  tire  door. 

The  other  chUdien  were  looking  mo^e  keenly  in- 
terested now  than  when  the  lesson  was  gomg  on; 
whUe  Tommy  T««t.»  squinted   approvingly  at  to 
boots,  which  l«d  been  precious  as  tlie  apple  of  his 
eye -the  tot  long  boots  he  ever  possessed,  possl- 
1   the   h«t    for  some   years,   unless    the    school 
should  donate  another  pair.     The  hour  was  up  now 
for  closing,  and  M«.  Kent   invited  theu:  visitor  to 
preside    at   the    organ    for    the    closing    e«H=»^. 
Mrs.  Evei^tt  played  a  piece  or  two,  in  which  the 
chUdren   joined,   and   then   motioning  to  Dong^ 
who  was  standing  apart  from  tiie  ret,  she  deUgh,«i 
Mttdred-s  heart  by  singing  some  of  th»e   inajesUe 
strauis  as  yet  far  beyond   the   powers   ofthe JU 
MalacU's  mis«ion«hool.     Betsy  Jones  stood   mute 
with  ™ptui.,   for  she  had  a  genuine  l°-'»'  "- 
A,    and  had  intellect  enough  to  appreciate  more 


**9SW 


-1 


to  look,  and 
pair  of  very 

a  nicer  animal, 

ihei-e,"  — Poi"*- 
that   were   still 
lappy  summer's 
r  at  the  door, 
more  keenly  in- 
was  going  on; 
jrovingly  at  his 
the  apple  of  his 
possessed,  possi- 
Less    the    school 
our  was  up  now 
I  their  visitor  to 
losing    exercises. 
ro,  in  which  the 
ing  to  Douglass, 
est,  she  delighted 
)f  those   majestic 
jwers   of  the   St. 
Fones  stood  mute 
nine  love  for  mu- 
»  appreciate  more 


AT  THE  MISBIOS-BCaOOL.  228 

ahstract  harmonies  than  their  simple  Sahbath-school 
melodies.     When   the  ai>-   had   ceased    to    vibrate 
with  the  delicious  strains,  and  the  childi-en  in  thick 
clusters  went   homewards,  talkmg  of  all  they  had 
geen    and   heard   that   day,    Betsy   walked   slowly 
along  by  herself.     She  had  so  many  thoughts  she 
wanted  to  be  by  herself,— painful,  growing  thoughts, 
making    her   heart    restless    and    dissatisfied.     She 
no  longer  w'as  impressed  with  hei-self  as  the  com- 
plete piece   of  gu-lhood  she  had  previously  imag- 
ined.    The  boastful  affection  with  which  her  fam- 
ily i-egarded  her  seemed  very  poor  satisfaction  now 
that    her  eyes    were   opened    to   see   what  higher 
types  of  humanity  there  were  in  the  world. 

If  she  could  then  have  had  her  life  begin  over 
again  amid  different  sunoundings,  she  would  prob- 
ably have  consented  tc  forego  the  mysterious  rapture 
one  feels,  when  they  pause  long  enough  in  the  i-ush 
of  life  to  think  deeply  on  the  matter,  because  of 
their  own  personal  identity  —  to  know  tlut  I  am 
myself— that  I  exist  a  sentient,  soul-blessed  par- 
ticle of  a  vast  creation. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


A  CONSBCBATIOH. 

ILDRED  returned  from  Sabbath-school  with 
a  mixed  feeling  of  satisfaction   and   dis- 
-^  api)ointment.     It   was    such   a  gladness 

having  M«.  Everett  bright«n  tlie  dusky  spaces  of 
St.  Malachi's  with  her  strong,  gracious  presence,  and 
to  have  her  mother  meet  and  heai-  her  sing  ana 
play.    But  ah«  1    she  had  made  no  promise  of  he.p 
to    the    desolate    littie    flock   other   than   a    book 
to  the  poorest  specimen  in  the  whole  school.    She 
went  along  the  street  very  pensively,  and  at  the 
crossing  where   Mr.   Felton  always  dropped  away 
to  his  own  lodgings,  shook  hands  in  sileuce.    Her 
motlier  noticed  her  depression,  but  waited  for  her 
to  speak.    She  never  forced  her  daughter's  confidence, 


-- -r 


A  CONSECRATION. 


225 


bath-scliool  with 
'action   and   dis- 
luoh   a  gladness 
dusky  spaces  of 
)U8  presence,  and 
lar  her  sing  and 
J  promise  of  help 
ar   than   a    book 
lole  school.    She 
vely,  and  at  the 
fa  dropped  away 
in  silence.     Her 
t  waited  for  her 
ghter's  confidence, 


but  trained  her  to  the  self-respectful  habit  of  beat- 
ing with  quiet  resignationthe  unavoidable  pains  of 

life. 

Paul  was  waiting  at  the  door,  his  hands  like 
ice,  but  his  face  eager  with  expectation.  Now  that 
he  had  thought  over  quietly  the  incidents  of  his  visit 
to  Gi-assmere,  and  realized  how  much  there  was  to 
see  and  enjoy,  he  >vas  deeply  ashamed  to  think 
what  a  baby  he  had  been. 

"When  are  we  all  going?"  he  cried,  as  he  ran, 
bareheaded,  through  the  snow  to  meet  them. 

"She  never  asked  us,"  Mildred  said  sorrow- 
fully, while  Paul  noticed  a  tear  dropping  down 
on  her  cheek. 

'♦  But  you  said  she  would,"  he  rem<*rked,  re- 
proachfully. 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  but  my  f eelmgs  were  mistaken,  I 

expect." 

"You  are  too  quickly  discouraged,  my  child," 
Mis.  Kent  said  «ncouraguigly.  "It  would  have 
surprised  me  had  she  asked  us  to^y.  She  is  too 
sensible  a  woman  to  act  so  impatuously." 

"But  think  how  much  pleasure  they  might  Jiave 
had  thinking  about  it  if  she  had  promised  them 
a  visit  sometime." 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

.The  pleasure  may  be  in  stox^  for  them  yet, 
and  Aey  cannot  miss  what  they  have  never  ex- 
Dected  or  possessed." 

.But  we  do  miss   so   many    things    that  might 

help  us  to  -be  happy." 

u  My  child,  I  am  begimiing  to  fear  your  acquain- 
tance    with     Gi^mere    and    its    inmates    gives 
you   really   more   pain    than  pleasure.    You    take 
eveiythhig  so   intensely,   you   make   life   eitiief  a 
rapture  or  an  agony." 

Mildred   stood  looking  silently  into  the  glowmg 
coals,  her  eyes  busy  tracin>;    the  mysterious   fa«es 
forming    and   dissolving   there,   but  her   thoughto 
intent  on  something  fai- diffei-ent.     Were  her  moth- 
er's  woi-ds  ti-ue,  and  was  she  not  as  happy  as  m 
those  earlier  days  before  she   went    tx,   school  and 
fomid  a  bmve   champion  in  the  knightly  h«i  and 
be^vitching  solacement  in  the  brief  visita  to  his  beau- 
tiful  home?    She  was  silent  for  a  long  time,  pay- 
ing  no  heed  to   the    children's   prattle.    A    long 
Jaxi^burdened  sigh,  and  then  a  look  of  resolution 

in  the  soul-lit  face.  ,      .    ♦!,„ 

.1  am  not  going  to  think  so   much  about   the 

Everetts  and  Grassmere.     God  did  not  mean  for 

„,e    to  Imve   such  a    lovely    home,  and  to  pamt 


A  CONBECRATION. 


827 


or  them  yet, 
ive  never  ex- 

s    that  might 

your  acquaia- 

nmates    gives 

».    You    take 

life   eitheif  a 

to  the  glowing 
lysterious    faces 
her   thoughts 
Were  her  moth- 
as  happy  as  in 
to   school  and 
jiightly  lad  and 
Lsits  to  his  beau- 
long  time,  pay- 
>rattle.    A    long 
lok  of  resolution 

much  about  the 
id  not  mean  for 
le,  and  to  paint 


piotttfes,  and  live  that  kind  of  life.  I  am  going 
to  ask  Him  to  take  me  and  make  me  happy  in  His 
own  way." 

<*  But,  my  child,  you  must  not  ask  for  happiness. 
He  may  know  that  unreat  and  a  measure  of  pain 
may  be  best  for  you." 

Another  pause,  and.  then  Mildred  said  calmly : 
«« I  will  ask  Him  to  give  me  just  what  He  knows 
is  best,  if  it  is  pleasant  to  have  or  not" 

"That  is  the  true  way  to  come  to  God." 

Mildred  went  softly  up  to  her  room,  and  there 
alone,  made  her  gift  in  all  pure  seriousness,  and  found 
in  the  consecration  such  a  new,  strange  gladness, 
as  made  her  for  the  time  forget  Grassmere  and 
every  other  strongly  coveted  earthly  good.  Alone 
with  her  mother  that  evening,  in  the  happy  hour 
after  the  two  other  litilo  tongues  were  stilled  in 
sleep,  she  asked  with  some  anxiety :  "  Was  I  con- 
vei-ted  up-stairs  this  afternoon  ?  My  text  one  day 
not  long  ago  was :  *  Except  ye  be  converted,  and 
become  as  little  children,  ye  shall  not  enter  into 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.'  " 

"I  believe  it  was  conversion.  A  child's  faith 
is  what  the  wisest  pliilosopher  miist  come  to  God 
with.    You  were  sincere  in  giving  yourself  to  Him ; 


9S3 


If 


„3  illLDBED  KENT'S  HERO. 

..dU>e  joy  yuexperieno^l  »»*»-"»=■- 

compact.'  .      giience, 

MUdred  sat  thinking  for  «)me   time  ^"    "^  J 
r.v.       ->,««aid-     "How8twinge  It  w  that  one 

"^'       :  1  g"    should  look  down  f«>m  heaven 
BO  great  as  God  «hou  ^^^^  ^^^^^ 

upcmapoorUtt^g^     Uke^       I  cannot  tell 
beside  me,  as  I  felt  He  ma  j 

you  how  near  He  seemed.    I   wish  He  would 
me  he  a  missionary."  ^ 

.The  good  God  will  give  you  ^^e   "g^t  -orfc 
to  do  fofnim,  if  you  a.,  ready  and  wilhng  to 

'^.ui  we.  a  hoy  1  would  study  ;  and  when  I  got 

.  ::  a  man,  I  would   pr^.    ;  ^  jtlyt 
^  to  them  from  a  piece  ot  pape    h^  J^^ 

the  Bihle,  and  get  a  look  at  it  as  if  1  w 

*.!,•««     Oh.  I  would  stand  right  up  ana 
ing  something.    Oh,      wo  ^^^^  ^^^ 

talk  from  my  heart.      That «  the  w  y 

to  dilate  at   thought  of  how   s 
men's  hearts  to  he  at  peace  with^^^      ^    ^^^ 
.But   Mildred,    you    must    remembei 


"  -  \ 


I  goal   to  His 


e   in    silence, 
t  is  that  one 

from  heaven 
d  come  right 

I  cannot  tell 
He  would  let 

he   light  work 
Mid  willing  to 

and  when  I  got 
the    people,  not 
er  hid  away  in 
if  I   was  steal- 
l  right  up  and 
way  Peter  the 
did.     They  got 
ughts,  and  then 
pie."      Her    .yes 
iier  form  seemed 
would  appeal  to 

God. 

nember    it    takes 


A  COSaSCRATIOS. 

splendid  gifts  to  reach  men's  hearte  like  your  f*- 
vorite  characters  were  enabled  to.  Preachers  now- 
a^ys  are  thankful  to  get  a  heamg  by  any  means, 
that  is,  the  rank  and  file  of  them.  It  is  only 
granted  to  a  few  rare  souls  in  each  generation  to 
have  the  power  to  draw  their  fellow  men  in  great 
masses,  and  sway  them  at  will." 

*»But  they  could  stand  right  out  and  talk  honestly 
to  them,  mamma,  and  not  play  hide  and  seek  with  a 
sheet  of  paper  in  the  Bible.  I  think  it  is  setting 
a  bad  example  to  children." 

"I  did  not  think  you  were  so  observing.  I  try 
not  to  think  of  the  minister's  notes.  I  am  glad  to 
get  good  thoughts  by  any  means." 

"But  I  can't  help  seeing;  and  then  I  get  so 
afraid  that  they  will  blow  out  when  the  wind 
comes  through  the  windows,  and  the  minister  will 
have  to  stop  preaching.  Oh,  if  I  were  only  able 
to  do  something  myself  1  What  a  pity  it  is  to  be 
a  woman  I " 

"  Perhaps  you  may  be  permitted  some  day  to 
give  up  home  and  friends,  and  the  joys  of  civil- 
ized life  to  go  away  among  savage  people  in  some 
remote  ishind  of  the  distant  seas,  to  tell  the  igno- 
rant of  Christ." 


m 


w     ■ 


"1 


lat  deal,  and 


8,  was  faith- 

\»  those  who 

the  rare  un- 


CHAPTER  XX. 


E8TRANGKMBNT8. 


VryHE  winter  sUpped  away  as  aU  winters,  no 
]  I L     matter  how  drear  and    desolate,  have    a 
^     fortunate  way  of  doing,  leaving  MUdred 
at  its  close  greatly  changed  from  one  year  before. 
A  resolute  expression  had  gradually  changed  the 
gentle  child-face,  so  that  when  busUy  thinking  or 
puzzling  over  some  knotty  question  in  her  studies, 
she    looked   almost  womanly.     A   rapidly  develop- 
ing intellect,  earnestness  iu  performing  well  life's 
lesponsibUities,  and  an  early  acquaintance  with  care, 
were  causing  the  free-heartedness  of  chUdhood  to 
give    pkce   to    the    becoming    dignity    of    young 
maidenhood.     Beth  and  Connie  were  growing  less 
friendly,  and  were  not  so  lavish  in  their   expres- 


•'MpaMtMilRMMM 


882  MILDRED  KENT'S  BEBO. 

Bions  of  regard,  since    they  found   there   was   no 
further  recompense  in  the  way  of  visito  to  Grasa- 
mere,  but   they  still    patronized  Mildred   to   some 
extent,  because  of  her  continued  intimacy  mth  the 
famUy  at  Grassmere.    Their  own  fashionaWe  moth- 
ers would  have  gUidly  sacrificed  some  hundre^  of 
dollar  to  secure   the   same   degree   ot  fnenM.^ 
which  had  so  brightened  and  stimulated  Mildreds 
life,  and  which  had  dropped  down  to  her  like  some 
mysterious  gift  from   the   clouds.    The   two   g^rls, 
along  with  others  of  then  schoolmates,  used  to  spec- 
ulate  on  the    strangeness  of    the    friendship   that 
had  sprung  up  between  Douglass,  his  mother,  and 
the   humble   dwellers   in   No.  6   Mulbeny  Street; 
but   it   was   a   mystery   that   always  baffled  their 
powers   to  penetrate.    Beth  used  to  reiterate   that 

it  was  not  natural. 

ult  is  just  like  what   happens   in  story-books; 
and  anyway,  MUdred  isn't  like  other  girls.    Shes 
religious;  and  I  guess  the  Lord  does  more  for  that 
kind.    It«  only  natural  He  should,"  she  remariced, 
one  luncheon-hour,  whUe  they  discussed  tiie  mtei> 
esting,  though  very  perplexing  question     Another 
thoughtful  girl,  well-read  in  Sunday^chool  literati^, 
objected   to  Betii's  theory.    Her  researches  on  the 


ere    was    no 

its  to  Grass- 

■ed   to   some 

aoy  vnth  the 

onable  moth- 

hundreds   of 

of  friendship 

ted  MUdred's 

her  like  some 

le    two   girls, 

used  to  spec- 

iendship    that 

I  mother,  and 

berry  Street; 

baffled  their 

reiterate    that 

I  story-books; 
r  girls.  She's 
more  for  that 
she  remarked, 
md  the  inters 
ion.  Anothor 
iiool  literature, 
sarches  on  the 


SBTMAirOSMKSTB, 

subject  of  goodness  aud  its  rewardii  had,  for  the 
roost  part,  been  of  a  doleful  nature,  until  near 
the  end  of  the  book,  when  everything  turned  out 
satisfactorily. 

♦♦But  Mildred  ia  pretty  good  to  begin  with," 
Beth  assured  them.  ♦♦  She  makes  her  own  prayers, 
and  Grace  told  me  once  that  she  prayed  for  us, 
too ;  and  then  she  is  going  to  be  a  missionary  among 
the  cannibals,  so  she  has  to  get  her  good  things 
now,  and  I  don't  mean  to  envy  her  any  more  if  I 
can  help  it." 

♦♦Why,  the  idea  that  you  should  envy  her  I" 
Connie  said,  with  fine  scorn. 

♦♦Yes,  I  do,  and  so  do  you,"  Beth  said,  firmly. 
♦'Wa  wouldn't  talk  so  much  about  her  going  to 
Grassmere  and  getting  on  so  well  with  her  lessons, 
if  we  didn't.  We  wouldn't  try  so  hard  to  find 
out  when  she  goos  out  there.  I  declare,  Connie  De 
Smythe,  you  walk  out  that  road  nearly  every  Sat- 
urday afternoon  just  to  see,  and  I  go  with  you  fur 
the  same  reason ;  and  we  are  both  as  cross  as  bears 
if  we  see  lier  g^ing  there.  I  do  believe  we  are  a 
real  mean,  envious  lot,  and  I  am  ever  so  much 
ashamed  of  myself." 

♦♦I  should   think  you  ought  to  be,"  Connie  said 


MILOttO  KKHT't  BCtO. 


1     ..ii  m,t   are  envious  of  a  newing- 
woman-.  «««enea-faoed  daughter." 

Whereupon  the«  en,u«l  a  very  hvely  eonven* 
a„n  hetween  the  en.wd  of  ^hool^prU.  wh.oh  e,^e,l 
i„  a  general  e.tn«.g.n.e„t,  lasting  for«ve»l  day., 
with   much   pacing  U,  and  fro  of  youthful  t^e- 
kea«,r..  with  «.rn,w  and  vindietivenee.  gener^y- 
There  may  have   reanlted  some   tritog  b.n.«t  to 
'        Beth,  «  M  l-one-t  confe»ion.  of   .m  w,* 
Cty  re-olve  to  foreake  them  mu.t  do,  erne.  *e 
straightway  went  to  Mildr«l,  entering  .nto  a  eom- 
^t  with   her   for   life-long  friendship,  wh.ch  ^n- 
Tued   without  serious   f^cture   for   three   wh^e 
weeks,  only  to  be  interrupted  at   *e  end   of  iha^ 
toe  by  Connie,  who  really  oared  more   for  BeU. 
^  for  any  one  else  in  the  world,  and  eou^d  n  t 
endure  having  Mild«d  loved  better  than  he«eU_ 
^nnle   was  a  fine  st^tegUt,  and  she  «>on  found 

a  way  to  supplant  MUdred.  whose  -^em^^  * 
Ues  were  se»n=ely  superior  to  a  moles.  The  tatte. 
tTeved  silently  over  Beth's  defection  ana  broken 
Sh,  while  she  almost  wi.h«l  the  time  had  come 
«„t  she  might  leave  for  her  cannib^,  -ce  the»^ 
whatever  her  other  heart«=hes,  there  ^«ld  n^ 
poesibly  be  such  a   thing  as  shattered  ftiendshrp. 


*'1 


of  s  sewing- 

vely  conversa- 

»,  which  ended 
»r  several  dayij» 

youthful   tale* 
nesH   generally, 
fling  benefit   to 
OS   of   sin  with 
at  do,  since  she 
ing  into  a  com- 
hip,  which  con- 
ttr    three    whole 
he  end   uf   that 
more    for   Beth 
^  and  could  not 
er   than   herself, 
she   soon   found 

scheming  facul- 
>le'8.  The  latter 
ion  and  broken 
I  time  had  come 
ibals,  since  there, 
there  could  not 
tered  friendship. 


ESTRANQEMENTB. 


She  wa«  slow  to  learn  wh»t  an  uncertain  tiling 
average  human  friendship  is,  nor  how  sadly  human 
nature  was  broken  in  the  fall  in  Eden.  Only 
hera  and  there,  scattered  at  wide  intervals  among 
our  acquaintances,  do  we  find  a  shining  specimen 
of  humanity,  who  has  been  but  lightly  injured  by 
this  Adamic  taint.  To  hold  such  a  one  as  a  steady, 
life-long  friend  surpasses  in  some  respects  the  pos- 
B  sion  of  another  Kohinoor ;  sincj  the  latter  must 
perish  amid  the  wreck  of  worlds,  while  the  former 
may  run  parallel  with  the  eternities.  • 

The  estrangement  of  her  schoolmates  was  not 
of  a  sufficiently  tragic  nature  to  interfere  with 
Mildred's  studies.  Reflections  respecting  it  occu- 
pied a  portion  of  her  nightly  vigils,  along  with 
castle-building  and  star-gazing.  Girl-philosopher 
that  she  was  fast  becoming,  she  sagely  reckoned 
that  a  thing  so  brittle  as  friendship,  and  once 
broken  the  cause  of  so  much  pain,  was  hardly 
worth  the  labor  of  cultivation ;  and  so  she  resolved 
to  seek  her  best  of  thought  and  companionship 
within  herself,  in  books,  the  fair  fount  of  Nature 
in  her  multitudinous  forms,  and,  best  of  all,  in  Him 
whose  hands  fasliioned  her,  as  well  as  the  great 
suns  and  systems  that  she  was  reading  about  now 


ill 


I  m 


MILDRED  RENTES  HKRO. 

To  diligently    out    of    study-hours,  and  which    by 
turns  ol™ed  .nd  l^ffled  her,  but  the^^y  w.d^- 
i„g  her  ment.1  horizon  vastly;  for  -h"'  J^^^^" 
al  of  thought  and  fancy,  can  learn  o    the  .n^- 
itely  great  or  small  of  ci-eation,  as  revealed  by  t. 
e^ope'^and  .nicroscope,  without  a  widening  of  the. 
„.en^l  faculties?    As  she  read  and  dindy  comp^ 
hended  the  descriptioios  of  ste«.luste«  --*  "ebul« 
each   of  to    excelling  i.    extent/ and -bnllxancy 
our  ovm  planet,  amazement  took  the  place  of  ig- 
nm-ance.     Their  huge  city  appeared  on  the  map  a 
little  round  dot  no  larger  thUn  a  punctuation  m^k. 
Comparing  tins  with  the  whole  con^nent,  and  then 
^vith   the  world  at    large,  she  taied  to  grasp  thp 
size  of  the  earth,  and  further,  to  compare  that  with 
a  sun  or  star  sj^tem.     But  her  head  tlu^bbed,  and 
imagination   grew  faint,   while   for  a  time  he«elf 
and  schoolmates  and  all  the  Umited  circle  of  her  ac- 
quaintance    assumed    painfully    smaU    proportions. 
However,  it  helped  her  to  bear  with   some    phil- 
osophy the  i-ebuffs  and  slights  dealt  out  to    hor 
by  her  schoolmates  in  no  stinted  measure.     Beth 
.nd     Comiie     had    confided     to    their    particular 
friends  Paul's  excellent  appreciation  of  honed  tur- 
key  and   ham^andwiohes,  and  the  mrity  such  edi- 


id  which    by 
liereby  widen- 
who,  in    the 
n  of  the  infin- 
jvealed  by  tdi- 
iening  of  their 
dimly  compre- 
ra  and  nebula, 
and  •brilliancy 
le  place  of  ig- 
on  the  map  ft 
nctuation  mark, 
inent,  and  then 
I  to  grasp  th3 
tnpare  that  with 
d  tlirobbed,  and 

a  time  herself 
i  circle  of  her  ac- 
all  proportions, 
vith  some  phil- 
ialt  out  to    hor 

measure.     Beth 

their    particular 

an  of  boned  tur- 

rarity  such  edi- 


EBTRANQEMENTa.  **7 

bles  were  in  Mildred's  home -even  :x>ast  beef  and 
bacon  being  scarce,  so  Paul  had  assu.-ed  them. 

"Why,  they  are  almost  charity    people,     Beth 
used    to    affirm,    when    feeling    specially    out    of 
sorts  with  MUdred.    "I  wonder  what  the  Everetts 
can   see   in    them?"     But  neither  she  nor  any  of 
her  friends  could  get  a  satisfactory  reply  to  hor 
query.    Paul  and  Grace  began  to  take  turns  now 
in  keeping  house,  so  that  Mildred  x^3ed  to  accom- 
pany her  mother  to  the  Sunday^chool.     Mrs.  Kent 
believed  her  daughter's  influence  would  be  a  W^ 
to  the  chUdren,  ^hose  types  of    youthful  chamc- 
ter  were  all  sadly  marred  by  evil  association.  And 
for   Mildred   there   was   a   peculiar    fascination  in 
watehing  these  untouned  youth ;  Betsy  Jones,  par- 
ticularly, interested  her  -  the    interest    at     times 
strongly    mixed    w^th    annoyance.    Next    to    Mrs. 
Kent,   Betsy    felt  herself  to  be  the   most  import- 
ant  me.nber  of  the  school,  and  assumed  superior 
airs  with  Mr.  Felton  himself;  but  that  near-sighted, 
simple  minded  gentleman  never  recognized  the  fact. 
Bet«y    took  particular  pains   to  snub   Mildred   m 
regard  to  her  smging.     She  could  not  calmly  accept 
a  rival ;    and  although  she  assured  the  cliildren  that 
Mildi-ed  Kent  could  not  sing  worth  a  cent,  yet  she 
u'.uaUy  experienced  a  jealous  pang  when  she  heard 


ii  ■! 


!      f 


i      f1 


288  MILDRED   KENT'S   HERO. 

the    soft,    musical    voice   singing  in   a  solo.    Her 
owr  voice  liad  twice  the  volume,  if  only  she  was 
l^mitted   io   use    it;    but  Mild^^'s    voice  had  a 
Hweetuess    of  expression  that  even  Tommy  Tufft« 
^.cognized  and  tried  to   describe   u.    his    .na.i.cu- 
iate  way   to   Betsy,  giving  her  to  undei^tand  tl«i 
he  liked  it  vastly  better  than  aU  the  noise  she  could 
,„ake     Betey  shook  hin.,  at  tlie  same  time  assur- 
i„g    him   that,    .vith  his    eyes,   he   couldn't  judge 

anythuig  coiTectly.  . 

'  I  don't  heai-  with  my  eyes,"  he  retorted,  wish- 
iuK  vei-v  much  he  could  sb'-.ke  her. 

ll  gie.^  you'll  alike  inside  and  out-crooked  aU 

over."  ..  f 

.When   I'm   a   man   I'll   pay    yo«  up,  see  if  I 

don't."  ,         ,j 

«  You'll  never  be  a  real  man,  no  matter  how  old 

you   ax-e.    I'd  advise    you.  Tommy  Tuffts,  not  to 

set  up   for  a  judge    of  singuig,  or   anything   else. 

You  ne.d  all  the  sense    you  have    to  mind  your 

own  affaire."  .    ^   i.„   *^ir 

Tommy  was   forced  t»   acquiesce,   but  he   tooK 

his  i^venge    in   gazing    with  apparent  ^ration 

at   Mildi^d   while   she    sang,  if    Betsy  chanced  to 

he  looking,  and  in  this   way  seized  as  a  Mordec. 

at  her  gate,  whenever  MUdi^  was  at  the  school. 


,^s 


,._^~^~^- 


a  solo.    Heif 
only  she  was 

voice  luwl  A 
^ornmy  Tuffte 

his  iuai-ticu- 
Aderotund  thnt 
ioise  she  could 
ne  tim3  assur- 
uouldu't  judge 

retorted,  wish- 

t  —  crooked  all 

ou  up,  see  il  I 

matter  how  old 
Toffts,  not  to 
anything  else, 
to  mind  yonr 

e,  but  he  took 
irent  admiration 
^etsy  chanced  to 
d  08  a  Mordecp' 
)  at  the  school. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

ONB  8P«AF  OATHBBED. 

SOUGLASS  EVERETT  took  leave  finaUy  of 
tlie    Paik    Avenue  School    when  the  mid- 
summer hoUdays  began.     He  was  now  suf- 
fioientiy  advanced  in  his  studies  to  enter  collegia, 
and  mother  and  son  would  soon   be  compelled  to 
forego  the  dear  companionship  existing   since  his 
babyhood.    He  knew  she  shrank  fi-om  the  separar 
tion,  but  with  a  boj-'s  eagerness  to  go  out  into  the 
broader  Ufe,  it  was  natural  he  should  anticipate  the 
change  with  more  satisfaction   than  pain.     He  ^va8 
ambitious  to  be  sometiiing  himself,  independently  of 
what  his  ancestor  had  done  for  him.     He  knew 
he  was  one  day  to  be  a  very  rich  man,   but  Ins 
moOier  had  so  nicely  guided  his   instinct,  Uiat  he 


Li 


240 


MIUDRED  XENT'B  HERO. 
was  eager  to  accomplish  Homething  better  th^n  the 
mere  Blinding  of  money  he  did  nothing  to  accumu- 
late.    Many  a  long  hour  he  and  hin  mother  had  spec- 
ulated  as   to    what    his  life-work  should  be,   but 
neither  of  them  had  yet  been  able  satisfactorily  to  de-  . 
cide      Her  counsel  wa«  that  he  should  fit  himself  for 
any  work  by  having  every  faculty  thoroughly  trained, 
and  then  look  to  God  for  guidance.     Douglass  tried 
to  submit  to   this   decision   with  what  patience  he 
dould  command ;   he  longed,  however,  to  know  what 
his  work  should  he,    and    often   envied   other  lads 
who  seemed  to  know  directly  what  path  lay  before 
them  among  the  world's  workers.     Of   one    thing, 
however,  he  determined  to  make  sure.    He  studied 
a«  hard  as  if  hU   school-privileges   wei«    as   unc^r- 
tein   and  difficult  as  the  poorest  country  lad's  who 
feels  the    fluttering    of    a  noble,  caged    soul,    and 
longs  to  give  it  room.     He  could  learn  i^adily,  and 
without  much  effort  led  in  his  classes;  but  in  his 
despairing  moods -and  he    frequently  had   these, 
which  appear   to   be    the    inevitable   lot   of   every 
highly  gifted  soul -he  reckoned  it  no  sign  that  he 
possessed  gift«  above  mediocrity  to  be   able    to   do 
i,i8      He  feared  that,  after  all  his  efforte,  his  might 
be  only  a  common,   i-eceptive    intellect,  that   takes 


-t 


iter  thon  tho 
jr  to  aocumu- 
ther  had  spec- 
ould  be,   but 
factorily  to  de- 
fit  himself  for 
>ughly  trained, 
Douglass  tried 
at  patience  he 
to  know  what 
ied   otlier  lads 
path  lay  before 
Oi   one    thing, 
e.     He  studied 
mre   as   uncer- 
intry  lad's  who 
^d    soul,   and 
tm  i-eadily,  and 
les;  but  in  his 
itly  had   these, 
lot   of   every 
no  sign  that  he 
be  able    to   do 
Forts,  his  might 
Bct,  that   takes 


OlfK  BHEAF  QATBERBD. 


241 


in  other  men's  thoughts  and  the  secrets  of  the 
universe,  so  far  as  others  had  discovered  them, 
much  as  the  sponge  takes  in  water,  but  lacking 
that  divine  creative  power,  the  inheritance  of  so  few, 
and  which,  for  want  of  a  better  ivord,  men  call 
genius.  If  so,  might  it  not  be  as  well,  he  reas- 
oned, for  him  to  enjoy  the  good  things  so  plenti- 
fully provided  by  industrious  ancestors,  and  cease 
struggling  for  what  lay  outside  Ids  strongest  en- 
deavors? But  these  thoughts,  though  forcing  a 
lodgment  in  his  brain,  were  powerless  to  weaken 
his  determination  at  least  to  make  the  effort  to  be 
something  better  than  a  blot  on  Creation's  face,  as 
all  idlers  certainly  are.  Stars  and  animalculae  alike 
fulfil  the  object  of  their  Creator's  intention,  as  well 
as  all  intermediate  existences,  so  far  as  we  know  of 
these,  mat!  alone  excepted. 

While  his  mother  conversed  with  him  respecting 
the  work  accomplished  by  those  who  most  fill  the 
world's  eye  in  the  best  sense,  at  the  present  day, 
and  some  of  whom  he  had  himself  met  near  or 
remotely  in  their  journeyings  in  Europe  and  Ameiv 
ica,  he  felt  his  pulses  tingle  and  his  ambitions 
stirred  to  take  his  place  one  day  as  a  poer  among 
the  best     His  mother  noted  the  flash   of  his   eye 


i-j 


m 


ij 


S42  MILDRED  KEltT'B  HERO. 

and  indulged  in  her  own  dreaim  for  her  boy's  fu- 
ture.   A  mrely-giftea  and  cultured  woman  she  felt 
encouraged,  aside  from   the  partial  -otherAove,  to 
hope  that  Douglass  had  i^ceived  as  his  birthright 
gifte  infinitely  richer  than  beautiful  Grassmere  and 
L  additional  wealth  that,  with  judicious  care,  might 
outlast  a  dozen  genemtions.      It  would  be  stmnge 
if  the  son  of  such  a  mother,  so  carefully  trained,  his 
bestinstinctsconstantly  encouraged,  should  disappomt 
his    mother's  hopes.      For   moi^   than  tliree  thous- 
and years  the  promise  has  st«od  for  the  encourage, 
ment  of  parents  that  children  rightly  trained  would 
not  in  after   yea«   depart  from  it.    Mi..   Everett 
accepted  that  promise  as  true,  and  acted  according- 
ly; and  it  was   not  the   lad's    intellectual    powe« 
Ine  that  she   endeavored   to    have  highly  devel- 

°^Years   before,  when   Death  stepped    across    the 
threshold  of    Grassmere   and  took  from  her,  at  a 
stroke,  the  light  of  her  eyes,  beside  her  husband  s 
dying  piUow  she  brought  her  breaking  heart  to  the 
com^iom^te  Christ,  with  her  babe  andher  woiW- 
ly  possessions.    Unlike  many  others  who  receive  the 
inion  in  bitter  woe  that  He  gives,  and  when 
the  aftertide  of  peace  comes  forget  the  Fnend  who 


-v 


her  boy's  fu- 

oman,  she  felt 
lother-love,  to 

lis  birthright 
Trassmere  and 
>U8  care,  might 
lid  be  strange 
Uy  trained,  his 
ould  disappoint 
m  three  thous- 
the  encourage- 
Y  trained  would 

Mi-s.  Everett 
toted  according^ 
lectual    powers 

highly   devel- 

led  across  the 
from  her,  at  a 

her  husband's 
ing  heart  to  the 

and  her  world- 
who  receive  the 
;ives,  and  when 
the  Friend  who 


mm 


I 


ONX  BHBAF  OATBBRBD. 


S48 


brought  relief,  she  never  forgot  whose  she  was; 
and  as  the  years  flowed  across  the  rfjnt  in  her  life 
and  partially  healed  it,  there  was  a  growing  inti- 
macy between  herself  and  the  Master,  until  her 
character,  naturally  gentle  and  self-repressed,  ma^ 
tured  into  one  of  the  fairest  usually  seen  in  this 
lapsed  world.  She  had  early  impressed  on  her  boy's 
mind  the  great  honor  Ood  condescends  to  bestow  on 
any  who  will  accept  the  gift.  Unlike  most,  she 
emphasized  the  honor  God  confers  by  adopting  us  as 
children,  and  not,  as  is  indirectly  implied,  the  honor 
we  confer  on  Him  by  giving  ourselves  into  His 
keeping.  She  tried  to  uplift  her  son's  conceptions 
of  the  Deity,  and  to  have  his  first  thoughts  of  God 
as  a  being  wonderously  glorious  and  honorable,  ex- 
alted far  above  everything  within  human  concep- 
tion. There  was  nothing  apologetic  in  her  atti- 
tude towards  religion  when  in  the  society  of  her 
most  worldly  acquaintances.  The  least  spiritual 
could  not  fail  to  realize  that  her  religion  was  no 
mere  cloak,  serving  as  a  wrap  to  conceal  the  dark- 
er workings  of  her  soul,  but  a  part  of  herself,  so  in- 
wrought with  the  fibres  of  her  spiritual  being  that 
it  would  be  impossible  to  conceive  of  her  as  other 
than  a  disciple  of  the  meek    Saviour   who    taught 


JL 


W' 


S44 


w.'\ 


H- 


MILDKED  KKNT'8  HERO. 

His  foUowers  amid  the  hills  and  valleys  of  Pale* 

'Tiving  in  the  world',  a...,iaUng  intimately  with 
the  lich  and   great,  she  was  yet  not  of   it.     There 
was  notog  of    the  ascetic  in   her  nature,  no  mo,^ 
hid  shrinking  from  contact  with  any  P^^  f  ^^^«; 
She   loved   her   fellow^^reatures,   and   delighted  to 
„»ake    the   favorites  of  fortune   happy,  as   well   as 
those  whose  path   lay  in    the  humble  vale  of  pov- 
erty  and  care.     She  reckoned,  no  doubt  very  JusUy, 
that  with   either  class   there  was    more   or  less  ac- 
quaintance with  the  bittemesses  of  hfe,-the  nch 
Squiring  her   symi«thy  quite   as   intensely  as  the 
p^r,  their  milUtones,  having  less  to  gnnd,  tummg 
r  the   sated  heart.     She  set  herself  now   m  the 
few  weeks  left  to  her  of  her  son's  stay  at  home,  to 
crowd  i  to  that   brief   space  all   the   pleasure   pos- 
sible.     C.mssmere   was   turned   into  a  i^gular   cam- 
vansary   with   the    coming   and    departing    gueste. 
The  rount«ins  wer.  sparkV^^  their  brightest  m  the 
hct  midsummer  air,  the  flowed  *«<^--f  ^"'^ 
«„ce  with  a  ptodigality  in  which,  no  ^^^^^"^^ 
and  bees,  as  well  as  human  creatures,  revelled;  the 
^n,  white   scatues  in  thei.  rigid,  marble   att^d^s 
„o  longer  looking  chill  and  uncomfortable  amid  the 


-V 


OSE  BHEAF  OATBBKBD. 


M6 


flys  of  Pales- 

timately  with 

of   it.     There 

iture,  no  mor- 

phase  of  life. 

delighted   to 
)y,  as   well   as 

vale  of  pov- 
iht  very  justly, 
ore   or  less  ac- 
life,  —  the  rich 
nteiisely  as  the 
I  grind,  turning 
slf   now,  in  the 
(tay  at  home,  to 
e   pleasure   pos- 
a  regular   carar 
^parting    guests, 
brightest  in  the 
dding  their  frag- 
no  doubt,  birds 
■es,  revelled ;  the 
marble   attitudes 
iortable  amid  the 


sunbeams    and   blossoms.     Busy  people,  whose  loto 
were  cast  amid  ceaseless  activities,  paused  here  for 
a  brief  breathin^pell,  and   let   gentie  thoughts  of 
heaven    and    the    long    rest  of   eternity   faU   like 
soothing   balm   on   their  spirite,  and  then  carryinf 
away  with   them   amid   the  rush  and  din  of   daily 
care  hallowed  memories   of  the  saintly  mistress   of 
Grassmere,  who  placed  service  and  love  for  Christ 
before    everything.     Other  souls,    too,    who   knew 
Uttle  of  the  luxuries  and  refinements  that  may  be 
used   as   helpful    ministries,  were   led   to   think  of 
that   country  where  they  too  might  revel  amid  aU 

perfect  things. 

With  the  natural  impatience  of  youth,  Douglass 
used  sometimes  to  get  tired  of  some  of  his  moth- 
er's guests,  and  would  have   chosen  more  of  soli- 
tude with  her  alone.     It  was  quite  natural  that  he 
should  get  wearied  of   the  little  thrills  of   e6sta«y 
of   prim   maidens  long  past  their  prime,  but  who 
clung   to   vouth   and   ite   ^ys,  often   caricaturing 
the    latter,'  or   of   doleful    widows,   who   had   not 
learned  his  mother's    happy  art  of   forgetting  their 
own  selfish  grief  in  making  others  glad,    bnt  there 
was  one  gathering  in  those  hist  few  weeks  at  Grass- 
mere  that,  from  ite  very  oddity,  he  enjoyed  so  much 


''  '3 
.1 


M 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

that  it  made  him  forget  a  good  many  other  un- 
^ngenialHocial  experiences.  At  la«t  MUdred  came 
home  f..m  St.  Malachi's  school  w»th  such  a  «. 
diant  countenance  that   Paul   inquired    if   she   had 

met  an  angel. 

u  Yes,  we  had  one  at  school  to^y;  and  I  have 
almost  felt  as  if  I  was  in  heaven  ever  since^ 

.Did  she  have  on  a  crown?"  Grace  asked,  her 
face  alight  with  radiant  expectation. 
«Not  that  we  could   see." 
.And  was  her  white   rohe   just  musUn,  or  was 
it  nicer  than   silk   or   satin,   and    the    wing,    and 
everything  just  like  all  the    other  angels? 

:C  fvon't  get  all  thc.e  things  till  she  dies. 
« Why,  angels  don't  die." 
.K  w«  only  M«.  Everett,"  P.«l  »id  ^'^l- 
„You  «ai  «.y  -he  to  ^orth  ™«  ^  "  *»"  » 
p«,  ™u,y  angeU,  when  1  tdl  you  what  .he  to^d 
rUay.    She    .nd    Doughs    were    .t    «*ool, 
„d  Mr    FelU.n  «.d  m«nm.,  »d  ^1   the  «=ho^ 
^    invited   ont  t«  Gr«.m.re    on   Tuesday,  and 
«e  are  going  to  have  tea  in  a  ,«n.me^.ho««.  and 
Lie.  Ida  sail  on  .he  lake,  and  all  U.eaower. 

we  can  pick.'  .     ,  .  i       ai.« 

Grade's  foce  t^ed  pale  and  then  pmk.    She 


^ms 


!■■ 


■■I 


.--  -X 


ny  other  un* 
Mildred  came 
bh  such  a  ra- 
l    if   she   had 

r;  and  I  have 
rer  since.' 
ace  asked,  her 


nuslin,  or  was 
tie    wings    and 
Eingels  ?  " 
till  she  dies." 

il  said  loftily, 
■e   to  us  than  a 
a  what  she  told 
ere    at    school ; 
all   the   schopl 
Tuesday;   and 
mmer-house,  and 
d  air  the  flowers 

then  pink.    She 


OSE  BBKAF  QATBBRBD,  •*' 

was  scarcely  less  shy  tlmn  when  she  fl«t  nuuie 
Douglass's  acquaintance,  when  she  peeped  at  him 
from  behind  a  chair;  and  her  heart  fluttered  at 
the  prospect  of  seeing  that  beautiful  place  the 
childi^n  had  talked  so  much  about;  and  a  as, 
seeing  so  many  strangers  at  the  same  time ;  but 
she  resolved  to   go   and  be   as  brave   as   Paul. 

Jack   Carver   called    that    evening    to    walk    to 
church  with  Mr«.    Kent.     He    was    a  very  regular 
wo^hipper  now,  but  only  on    mre    occasions    went 
with  Mrs.  Kent.     He  was  growing  rapidly,  and  be- 
ing bright   and   active,  earned  many   a  dollar   that 
few  knew  of   but  himself,    so  that  he  was  able   to 
dress    respectably.      Aiid    now,    instead    of  buying 
trashy   literature,   he   expended    his  spare   cash   m 
what  was  useful,  occasionally  buying  a  good  book, 
hut  relying  riiainly  on  the  public   libraries    for   h« 
mental  food.     He  attended  night>«chool,  and  though 
he    occasionally   nodded   over   his   lessons    after    a 
specially   busy   day,  he    was   amassing   a  consider^ 
able  fund  of   useful  knowledge,  so  that  Mrs.  Kent 
began  to  feel  as  proud  of  him  as  if  she  had  really 
some  private  interest  in  him.     He  came  that  even- 
ing more  particularly   t«    talk    over   with   Mildred 
the  day's  pleasuring  they  were  to   have    at   Grass- 


(48  MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

r^eve.   for  he  was  a«    gratified  at   the    prospect   a. 
any  of  the  young  people;  but  he  had  fully  deeded 
that  his  Btep-mother's  family  were  none  of  them  to 
be  represented  there.     Adelphine   had   heanl   them 
tolking,  but  she  did  not  understand    about  it  with 
sufficient  distinctness  to  enlighten   her    mother   on 
the  subject;  and  none  of  the  other  schooUludren 
were  anxious  to  have  her  know  about  it,    est  she 
nxight   continue   her  criticisms    of    Mrs.    Kveretts 
costumes    or    premises.       Her    mother    would,    no 
doubt,  pour   out   all   her   vials   of   indignation    on 
Jack's  head,  so  far  as  she  was  allowed  to  do,  when 
she   discovered  how   her    precious   chdd  had  been 
cheated;  but   Jack  w.«   developmg    into    such    a 
n.anly  youtix  tiu^t  he  was  pretty  well  out  of  reach 
of  his  mother's  wrath. 

As  he  sat  with  Mildred,  in  the  peaceful  hnsh  of 
the  Sabbath  even-tide,  -  Paul   and  Grace   turmng 
over  quietly  the  leaves  of  the  great  family  Bxble 
and    making  ti.eir  quaint  remark,  on  the  pictured 
faces  of  the  prophets  and  kings,  with  Mddred  s  t. 
W  in   the  open  window  wistfully  looking    mto 
the  still  depti«  of  ti.e  summer  sky,  as  if  her  heart 
had  a  homesick  longing  to  plunge  into  its  mys- 
terious deptixs  and  pierce  the  secrets  of  the  to-morrow 


-^  -1    ' 


prospect   as 

fully  decided 

lie  of  them  to 

heard    them 

about  it  with 

mother    on 

chool-<;hildren 

it    it,  lent  she 

ifrs.    Everett's 

er    would,    no 

ndignation    on 

ed  to  do,  when 

iiild   had  been 

into    such    a 

1  out  of  reach 

taceful  hush  of 
Grrace   turning 

family  Bible 
1  the  pictured 
1  Mildred  sit- 

looking  into 
as  if  her  heart 
into  its  mys- 
the  to-morrow 


.    ONE  BHEAF  OATBERED. 

of  Death,  he  vaguely  wondered  why  his  own 
home  could  not  be  as  reflned  and  liappy ;  the  dif* 
ference,  he  decided,  was  altogether  in  the  women- 
folk  of  the  two  households ;  for  the  money  ex- 
penditure  was  much  heavier  in  his  own  home 
than  this.  Mrs.  Kent  flitted  softly  to  and  fro, 
her  presence  almost  as  noiseless  and  fully  as  be- 
neficent there  as  the  sunlight.  He  would  have 
reckoned  himself  rich,  indeed,  if  he  could  get  his 
home  and  kindred  at  once  transformed  into  an 
exact  likeness  of  these.  As  Mildred  sat  tliinking 
over  their  visit  to  Orassmere,  of  which  they  had 
just  been  so  eagerly  talking,  a  shadow  stole  ovor 
her  spurits  •  while  she  looked  around  on  the  hum- 
ble room  and  out  on  their  bit  of  garden  in  t'^rst, 
with  its  feeble  buttercups  and  disheartened-looking 
dandelions,  comparing  them  with  the  roses,  lilies, 
geraniums,  and  other  choice  plants  preparing  now 
to  fall  asleep  in  the  heavily  perfumed  air  at 
Grassmere ;  while  in  the  lofty  rooms,  where  high- 
bred people  were  passing  to  and  fro  amid  the  pic- 
tures and  elegant  furnishings,  she  could  almost 
hear  in  imagination  the  delicious  strains  fi-om  the 
music-room,  where  no  doubt  at  this  hour  Mrs. 
Everett,  or  some  musical  friend,  was  engaged 
in  creating  harmonies. 


250      •  MILBREB  KCIIT-a  nCKO. 

Preseatly  M».  Koat  and  Jaok  left  to  church ; 
.nd    then    the    eWMren's   prayen,  wem    «..d,    an<t 
they  »ere  soon  Btraying  amid  the  tantdUing  rea ta,     . 
„t  dmmland,  when  Mildml  again  took  her  place 
by  the  open  window  and  »at    dreaming   her    own 
dreams  while  »he  half<!on«ionaly  watched  the  snns 
tat  etmy  bean.,   following  hard  after  their  dejart. 
i„g  companion,,  to  cheer  other  hearte  and  apacee  t 
.„d    the    et»«    took  up  their  .hining,-her  own 
paUicular  atar  looking  down  at  her,  ahe    toced, 
L  one  of  the  angeU  of  God  endeavoring  ^  up- 
lift her  from  the  touch  of   earth   and   «lflahBe«. 
Her  mind  wa,  busy, -not  merely  engj«ed 'n  ux- 
urio.  reverie,  but  in  eameat,  painful  ttoikuig  that 
left  her  brain  throbbing  and  weary.     She  remeuH 
hered  the  aapect   J«>k    Carver's    home    preeented 
when  she    went    there    not  long    ago    to    aee  a 
chad  they  thought  would  die,  mi  even  the  mem- 
:^  made  her  shudder.    She  readied  the  look  o 
la^tion  depic,«l  on  his  face  when  he  glancec 
.round  at  the  comfort,  of  her   own   home,   while 
conacience    whiapered    "what  if   ahe   ^  '^J"' 
with   the    Carven,    and  caU    that  coarae,  W..«. 
tured   woman   mother,   and  *are    ^J^'^ 
home  with  thoae  terrible  children!"     Humbled  at 


I 


-) 


t  for  church; 
5re    said*    w^^ 
talizing  realms     . 
ook  her  place 
dng    her    own 
bched  the  sun's 
r  their  depart- 
rts  and  spaces ; 
ng,  —  her  own 
r,  she    fancied, 
eavoring  to  up- 
md   selfishness, 
engaged  in  lux- 
il  thinking  that 
r.     She  remem- 
iome    presented 

ago  to  see  a 
even  the  mein- 
iled  the  look  of 
rhen  he  glanced 
/m  home,  while 
jhe   had   to   live 

coarse,  hard-fea- 
,    the   disordered 
Humbled  at 


»> 


3A1 

ONE  SHEAF  GATHERED. 

remembrance  of  her  dissatisfied  fancies  a  few  m^ 
xuente  before,   she  knelt   by  her   chair   and   asked 
God  to  forgive  her  for  indulging  ever  in  r^pmmg 
thoughts,  and  again  asked   Him   to   take   her  and 
give  her  what  was  best,  and  let  her  work  for  H^m 
Lmewhere.     She   u-ose  from  her  knees,  and  hfUng 
her  eyes  again  to  the  bright   shining   of  the  sta« 
she  tried  to  look  past  them  to  heaven  .teel ,  some- 
where, she  believed,  in  those   far  depths  of  space, 
Zhere  God  is  amid  the   splendor  of  H«  throne. 

room  and  the  glorious   ranks   of   «l>-|;»g  J^^^ 
yet  bending  His  ear  to   listen  to  her  humble    cry. 
A  feeUng  of  awe,  so  deep  that  it  reached  to  pain, 
came  over  her  while  she  reflected  that  only  a  mo- 
„.ent  before  she   h«i   conversed  with   tb«   -gh^ 
Being,  but, -and  at  the  thought  her  hear^  sUlled 
it«  frightened  beating,-the  Christ  who   died   for 
her  was  sitting  there -God  with  God 

Her  mother  came  home,  too,  that  night,  in  a  very 
grateful  mood,  for  there  had  been  a  meeting  of  very 
Isual  power,  and  Jack  Carver  had  stood  up  foi 
prayer  and  on  the  way  confessed  tiiat  for  many 
LL  he  had  found  the  burden  of  his  sins  heavier 

than  he  could  bear. 

ult  wa«  one  Sunday  when  you  were  talking  to 


i 


.■lUlW  I    -•* 


% 


252  MILDRED  KENT^S  HERO. 

US  about  eternity,"  he  said  to  M«.  Kent,  "bow  long 
it  was,  and  what  a  little  thing  might  keep  xis  from 
Hpending    it  with  Christ.     If   you  remembe^   you 
talked  to  us  a  lot  about  Him,  what  pain   He   en- 
dured  to  have  u«  live  with  Him  forever;  and  now 
although    He    receives   such  honor   fitm    aL    Hi. 
sainte  and  angels,  He  liste..  to  our  faintest  reques^ 
for  mercy  and  pity.     Ever  since   I've  seemed    to 
see    Him  listening  for   me   U>   come.     To-mght    1 
forgot  about  eternity,  and  those  awful  things  I  ve 
iJlHUch  a  horror  of,   and  I  just  seemed    te  see 
Christ   with   the    blood   on   His  hands  waitang  to 
Uot  out  my  sins.     How  I  ^sh  He'd  give   me   a 
chance  to  tell   Him  that  I  am  gratefu^  for  wha 

He  has  done  for  me.  You  see,  I  can  tell  you  what 
I  think  of  what  you  have  done  for  me,  and  may- 
be I'll  have  a  chance  some  day  to-  do  soi.ethmg 
for  you ;  but  it's  different  with  Him.  He  .s  so  nch 
and  g..at,  He  don't  need  the  help  of  a  poor  boy 
like  me;  there  a.  so  many  in  heaven  and  on  ea^ 

p^uising  Him,  I  am  of  no  account  at  all  no  more 
than  one  of  the  sparrows  hopping  around  on  the 

street."  , ., 

Mi^.  Kent'H  eyes  were  full  of  happy  tears,  whde 
Jack  poured  out  breathlessly    his    story.     AH  the 


...— ..I~- 


nt,  "bow  long 
t  keep  U8  from 
emember,    you 
,  pain   He   en- 
3ver;  and  now, 
fi-cm    all    His 
faintest  request 
;'ve  seemed    to 
e.     To-night    I 
rful  things  I've 
seemed    to  see 
inds  waiting  to 
[e'd  give  me   a 
ateful  for  what 
an  tell  you  what 
ar  me,  and  may- 
».  do  soi.ething 
m.    He  IS  so  rich 
p  of  a  poor  boy 
iven  and  on  earth 
it  at  all,  no  more 
g  around  on  the 

happy  tears,  while 
,    story.    AH  the 


ONE  SHKAF  OATHERF.D.  253 

plea^ure^eekei.  in  the  world  could  not  conceive 
Lr  joy,  as  she  stood  in  the  mist  of  the  starlight 
with  Jack's  fonn  dimly  outUned,  his  qmvenng 
featux^  quite  in  the  shadow,  and  talked  to  hxm 
of  his  new-found  Friend;  for  on  their  slow  home- 
waid  way,  the  boy  had  laid  hold  of  the  mystexy 
of  faith  and  accepted  Chiist  for  his  atonement. 

uGod  provides  work  for  every  one  ready  and 
willing  to  do  it.  You  willOiave  opportunity  every 
day  of  proving  your  feai^y  to  Him.  You  can  be- 
ain  right  at  once  in  your  own  home." 

«Any  other  place  would  be    easier  than   that, 
was  the  answer,  rather  hopelessly  given. 

uWe  are  not  to  choose  our  work.  No  wise 
pax^nt  does  that  with  children,  and  we  ^  only 
chUdren  of  a  larger  growth;  very  often  willful  and 
W  to  teach. in  Christ's  school.  If  you  wm  one 
of  your  own  family  for  Heaven,  what  a  success  your 
1  will  be!   I  have  always  di^aded  the  thought 

of  ifoing  there  alone." 

.ffiut  you  need  not  do  that  any  longer.  I  shall 
be  your  boy  there,  and  I  am  so  glad  to  belong  to 
you  in  some  way-the  only  mother  I  have  ever 

"""Xil  was  a  quiver  in  Jack's  voice,  though  the 


rmm 


tihat  stood  iu 


spoke  softly. 
,hile  the  touch 
B  most  like  a 
before. 


CHAPTSR  XXn. 

DOUBTmO   CA8TLE. 

TACK    presented    himself    »t  No.   6  Mulberry 
n      street   very  promptly   on  Monday  evening. 
iJ      Mk.  Kent  saw  that  his  face  looked  troub. 
led;  but  after  a  while  he  began  to  look  lu^p^er 
as  they  sat  in  the  twiUght  singing,  while  Mddi-ed 
played  some  of  the  old  majestic  tunes  -  the  .egacy 
to  the  Christian  church  of  some  of  the  mast^i.  of 
musical  composition.    He  had  .  fine  soprano  voice 
that  might,  in  a  few  yea,«,  develop  into  an  equally 
good  tenor  or  baritone;     and  Mrs.  Kent  had  en- 
lavoi^d  to  cultivate  his  t«ste  by  introducing  hm^ 
so  far  as  she  was  capable,  to  the  moi-e  advanced 
compositions  of  saci-ed  music      MUdred  had  a  de- 
cided ta8t«   for  ch«sic  music,  and  under  her  motii- 


W'^s '  ' 


256  MILDRED  KEST'8  HERO. 

er'8  painstaking  instruction,  since  she  was  able  to 
sit  at  the  harmonium,  she  was  now  enabled  to  ex. 
U.ct,  especially  in  inspix^d  moments,  a  good  degree 
of  harmony  from  Mozait's  masses  and  the  hymns 
of  the  Bachs,  and  some  others  of  the  older  compo- 
sers,  whose  works  had  come  to  her  mother  through  a 
musical    grandmother    long    since    passed    tx>    the 
world   where    music   may  appeal   to    other    sens^ 
than  il.ose  of  hearing.     At  last  the   twUight  had 
80  far  fadad  that  Mildred  could    no  longer    dis- 
tinguish  the  notes;   when  she  had  ceased  pUymg, 
and  the  two  children,  tired  with  the  long  days 
play,  had  nearly  sung  themselves  to    sleep,   Mrs. 
Kent  laid  away  her  work    and   put  them  tx)  bed 
whUe    Mildred,    going    to   the    open   window,   sat 
watching  the  «ky  with  the  loving  wistiulness  Jack 
had  so  often  noticed  before.     Getting  tnred  of  the 
silence  he  said,  at  last:  "I   believe  you  are  home- 
sick  to  get  up  there." 

uOh,  no,  I  want  to  live  on  this  earth  a  ^at 
^y  xnore  years.  I  expect  the  people  up  there 
ai.  far  happier  than  we  are ;  but  I  cannot  see  how 
they  have  the  same  chance  to  work  and  make  others 
better  and  happier  as  we  have  down  here. 
«I8  that  what  you  want  to  live  for? 


m 


DOOBTISa  CASTLE. 


257 


was  able  to 
nabled  to  ex-- 
a  good  deg^e 
id  the   hymns 
older  compo- 
ther  through  a 
Missed    to    the 
other    senses 
I   twilight  had 
lo  longer    dis- 
ceased  playing, 
bhe   long  day's 
to    sleep,    Mrs. 
i  them  to  bed, 
1   window,    sat 
istfulness  Jack 
g  tired  of  the 
you  are  home- 
earth  a   great 
eople  up  there 
cannot  see  how 
nd  make  others 
L  here." 
for?" 


"One  of  the  things,"  she  said,  timidly.  "There 
will  be  such  a  long  time  to  go  around  among  the 
stars  and  learn  their  histories,  and  to  get  ac- 
quainted with  all  the  great  people,  that  I  don't 
feel  in  any  hurry  to  begin." 

"  Yes,  and  one  has  to  die  to  get  there ;  and  that 
is  anything  but  a  good  outlook.  Besides,  if  we 
should  find  at  last  that  it  was  all  »  mistake." 

"  Oh,  Jack,  we  can  never  do  that.  It  is  just  as 
true  and  real  as  this  world." 

"Lots  of  wise  men  don't  think  so." 

"I  never  knew  that  anyone  thought  there  was  a 
doubt.  I  would  rather  never  have  existed  at  all 
than  to  be  put  out  like  a  candle  when  I  die." 
There  was  such  pain  in  her  voice  that  Jack  re- 
gretted that  he  had  spoken  his  own  despairing 
doubts. 

"What  are  you  speaking  about  so  dolefully?" 
Mrs.  Kent  asked  as  she  came  into  the  '•oom.  They^ 
were  both  silent,  and  she  asked  again. 

"  Jack  says  maybe  there  is  no  Heaven,  or  life  after 
this  is  done.     He  says  some  wise  men  believe  so." 

"Why,  Jack,  have  you  so  soon  got  into  Doubting- 
Castle?"  Mx-s.  Kent  asked  cheerily,  as  if  that  were 
not  matter  for  surprise,  however. 


m- 


M^' 


258 


MILDRED  KEST^a  HESO. 

.Idon'tknowwhe,.Ihaveg«t,b«tit«not 

the  sort  of  place  I  was  in  ^^''''«^''..„ 
.What  has  gone  wrong  with  you  I^J 
.Itisno«seformetotr.tobeaChnstu.n. 

can't  and  live  there." 

.God  never  put«  «s  in  any  places,  J»«^'  J^ 

Mn   t«  serve  him,— not  even  the  pal- 

't.t:    -%.c^    you    »iU    s«.n    ^^U 
.„„„«!    to    get  »  «i.e    and  ho»o  of   .o«r  o»n, 

» I  believe  VU  let  women  alone  when 
,  tot  ra  like  them,  ii  they  were  .11  like  you, 
r  »Id,    tith    a    ^t    attempt    a.    cheerfnlne., 

„  «  make  their  famiUee  comfor«.ble  and  happy, 

Mildred  -^  «>^»"^^  ^i„„^  ^  .ome  di«e. 

"  One  would  tmnK  you  uc     »  „„„ii„ " 

e„t  order  of  beings,  you  epeak«..mpersonally. 


-1 


>. 


t,  but  it  is  not 


, »» 


L  to-day?" 
a  Christian.    I 

es.  Jack,  where 
[)t  even  the  pal- 
probably  it  is  the 

aim." 

larder  than  with 
You   have  no 
despairingly. 
U    soon    be    old 
e  of   your  own," 

when  I'm  a  man; 
rere  all  like  you," 
■    at    cheerfulness, 

are  nice,  and  they 
rtable  and  happy," 

;ed  to  some  differ- 
so  impersonally." 


DOVBTISG  CAMTLE.  "^ 

uWell,  mamma,  I  am  not  a  woman.  Tlunk  of 
all  the  days  that  must  come  and  go  first." 

uBut  they  will  all  be  gone  ■'ome  day,  and  your 
turn  to  have  a  house  of  yom  .w.  .nd  husband  to 
make  happy  wUl  comeat  >   V'^^ -id' -t-'^ 

^Tr  don't  much  expert  .  get  married.  That 
wUl  not  be  in  my  wav  .f  life,"  she  repUed  with 
perfect  seriousness. 

ult  is  altogether  too  soon  for  you  to  be  spec- 
ulating about  such  things,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Kent 
« Marriage  is  a  very  solemn  undertaking  and 
children  should  not  forecast  such  vague  possibil- 
ities. Live  each  day  wisely,  making  the  best  of 
ite    opportunities,  and    leave    an    uncertain    future 

»But  we  may  talk  about  Grassmere.  Saturday 
is  not  really  the  futui-e." 

Her  mother  smiled  at  MUdred's  request,  and 
gave  her  consent;  whereupon  Mildred  and  Jack 
fell  to  discussing  the  Everette,  their  homo,  aUd 
their  unusual  kindliness  to  otiiers. 

«You  will  get  a  better  idea  of  heaven  after  you 
have  been  there,"  Mildred  assured  him.  "  I  really 
can't  x-ealize  that  I  shall  have  such  a  home  a^  that 


,&,-   «'fe>j«'.-!^lik\!.^ie-;:..'..  . 


,  ;,■       1  like  to  alter  *»«  «■>'*  '  J"  '^J 
when  I  die.     Hike"  J  »lw»y»  «>»k» 

KatW.  ..o.»e  .«  -ny  n».n,.o^.  J      J^^^^^, 

i,.,„„y  Father-.   o-»^^,rln..»-i 

,  expect  it  U  i«.t  U.e  "^el  not  n.o™  anx^ou. 

^t«r.     I  wonder  poor  l-P^  *"  \,„„  j^  u.  Mr. 

to  die  >  but  one  day  I  wa.  ..Ik  "g  ^ 

Felton,  «.a  he  ».id  poor  people  lo^  t  ^^^^ 

™ch.atherich,b«tn»ny    <*-  „ 

„,  reckoning  about  heaven  at  all- 

deratand  it."  .^j  „  g«Kl  right  to  Uve  aa 

"The   poor   have    just  as   g 

Ae  rich,"  Jack  »««'*«*•  „„„h  «  live  for; 

„Ohye.butt..y^«n^»»  .„^„d 

.nd  then  i>«t  .o  d.e   .ndje  •»      ^„  „^„  to   die 

en.pe«.rs.     O"'''  * f  w^Wng  tlorrow  on  ^i, 
to-night  you  might  he  walking  ^^^  i^ 

.nd  have  a  !«.-.««  !«'*»  ffr 

p^vided  you ;-  r"-^^;  ;,  ,  while  longer  in 

„I  know,  but  Id  rather  si»y_^       ^^  ^^^^ 

ari.  Wd-nowwouldnt  yo«^  ^^owledged 

.p^ed  «,  o;- *»;:'t«rt'»tday  they  were 
d>e  UA  a  good  deal  rf  an.  ^  __^,^^^  ^^^„ 

■^""^ ""  TJZ  "  -  *«  *^ '""'  *"" 

to   slip   out  of   the   ooai,  plunging 

looked  too  deep  and  «.lemn  .»   feel  1 
iato  it  suddenly. 


mrdB,  '  In  my 
I  always  make 
iny   manwons.' 
seems  to  read 
)t  more  anxious 
»bout  it  to  ^' 
re  their  liveti  as 
em  don't  make 
I  cannot    un- 

right  to  live  as 

luch  to  live  for; 
ich  as  kings  and 
you  were   to    die 
^morrow  on  gold, 
,ur  own,  — that  is, 
» 

a  while  longer  in 
'"     Thus   direcUy 
Ired   acknowledged 
that  day  they  were 
,tom  might  happen 
the   sky    just   then 
feel  like  plunging 


DOVBTINO  CASTLE.  •** 

uYe«,  1  guesH  most  people  would  sooner  live 
than  die  any  time,  except  wHn  they  a.,  very  s.ck, 
or  have  great   trouble." 

.1  wonder  if  God  likes  us  to  suffer  and  be  sad- 
heai-ted,"  MUdred  said  i^eflectlvely. 

.1  can't  say.     Mayl.  it's  good  for  us,  makes  us 

pure,    like    the    big    storms    do    the    -^-^^^^. 
Jack    was   trying   to    comfort  his   heart   w.th    the 
thought  that  his  own  trials  might  be  a  gain  m  the 

'"!'l  have  read  a  gieat  deal  about  it  in  the  Bible, 
and  when  things  have  been  trying  at  -]»<;«  :.\«-"^ 
it  a  comfort  to  read  about  Moses  and  Ehjah,  and 
the    other    witnesseH,  as    St.  Paul    calls    them.     I 
have   often  sat  at  my   desk    and    said    over    that 
vei.e,    'For  our  light  affliction,  which  is  but  for  a 
moment,  shall  work  out  for  us  a  far  more  exceedmg 
and  eternal  weight  of  glory,'  until  I  wouldnt  mxnd 

things  very  much." 

«  What  things  ?  "  Jack  asked  curiously. 

Mildred  ca«t  a  quick  look  at  her  mother,  to  see 
if  Bhe  was  listening,  but  she  seemed  absorbed  m 
a  rich  dimier^wss  she  was  making  for  one  of  her 
patronesses. 


Ml 


MiLDRtD  KENT'S  BERO. 

the  P»rk  Avenue  School,     in  ^^ 

h„„«.,  ana   ..ep  -»->  »*  >-;  >;;,,«„.;. 
their    mother    go    odUng    .  ,^  ^   ,^^^ 

Siioi:r:r::rgo::o.e/.e.n.^. . 

""""'■■  ""*^ro:C;tl  on  the   dollar,  »na 
off;  l»y  th'rty  ™  «>"■'  „ie  „«  no 

cheat  folV»  out  of  fte  reet.    ^^  ^  {"„„  „a,e« 

better,  rerily,  than  Lggar*.  ^^J         ^       ^ 

^•"^  *- ■::" T ;":  *- 'L "- *' 

*"'    'Ttr  the  ri^    tave   another  na™.  for 

rtu:;:-^.---'--"'"'^*^''^^^ 

"^•"'"f  ttkte    :::.4cen..whe. 
Jirritoney."     MUarea-.    tone    ^ 

slightly  reproving.  ,  ^^^i^     I  never  heard 

"^•""T'tLtr^tXt-longago, 
tell  of  but  two  that  dia  ii, «" 


-\ 


lor  scholar  at 
»  live  in  ftne 
B  parties,  and 
e  receptions.'' 
^es    in  a  low, 
them  BO  many 

^k  «*aid  slowly, 
d  then  go  all  to 
where  they  left 
the   dollar,  and 
people  are  no 
get  from  others 
i  then  they  call 
that    sees    the 
another  name  for 
he  added,  by  way 

eagerly, 
boyish  scorn, 
sixty  cents  wher 
dred's    tone    was 

be.    I  never  heard 
tbfttwas  long  ago; 


DOVBTINO  CA8TLK.  ••■ 

but  myl  their  families  turned  out  well,"  he  said 
admiringly,  as  if  the  honorable  fathers  got  their 
recompense  in  a  noble  posterity. 

Mildred  sat  thinking  for  a  good  while,  but  Jack 
could  detect  no  gleam   of  elation  brightening  her 
face,  as  he  had  expected.     It  did  not  seem  to  give 
her  an  ignoble  satisfaction  to  know  that  some  of  her 
schoolmates  had  a  support  really  more  degradmg 
than  pauperism,   their  beautiful  homes  and  pretty 
garments  secured  at  the  loss  of  their  parents'  honor. 
She  bi^athed  a  long  sigh.     "It's  a  curious  world. 
Jack,  and  things  are   very  badly   twisted.     Don  t 
you  think    it    would    be  better   if   people    didnt 
crowd  together  so, -if  there    were   more    country 
pkces  and  not  such  big  cities?" 

.1  know  I  wish  I  had  a  farm,  with  trees  and 
holies,"  Jack  said,  in  a  tone  of  voice  that  pH>ved 
the  genuineness  of  his  words. 

» There  are  millions  of  acres  yet  that  no  one 
gets  any  good  from, -plenty  for  everyone  to 
Lw  his  own  wheat  and  potatoes  on,  and  have 
Lttle  besides.  I  think  dumb  creatures  are  some- 
times  better  society  than  certain  human  beings. 
They  reaUy  seem  more  refined  and  respectable  than 
wicked,  dirty  people  you  meet  on  the  streets. 


'a  'if 


.J£RKrrrff??ff4^'^,W*«!ttS»WPSW*|B5t*'^«MW'^  'V'*:Bfl»5*'-' 


264 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


Jack's  face  flubhed  uncomfortably  at  Mildred's 
words,  for  he  thought  instantly  of  the  poor  speci- 
mens of  humanity  which  it  had  been  his  lot  to 
herd  among ;  his  own  flesh  and  blood  he  remembered 
with  a  pang. 

"  But  the  dumb  creatures  are  far  below  the  very 
poorest,  lowest  specimens  of  humsn  beings,"  he 
remonstrated.     "They  won't  live  forever." 

"But  the  dumb  animals  are  just  as  God  made 
them,  and  the  human  beings  are  far  worse.  A  horse 
like  Cadmor  seems  far  higher  and  nobler  than  a 
man  like  old  Shuffler,  who  lives  up  your  alley." 

"I  have  heard  father  say  he  was  a  fine-looking 
man  once.  He  was  brought  up  in  a  rich  home; 
but  he  drank,  and  has  gone  through  with  a  for- 
tune long  ago." 

"  The  children  on  the  street  now  caU  him  names 
and  mimic  him,"  Mildred  continued  sorrowfully. 

"But  he  don't  mind  if  he  can  only  get  his 
grog,"  Jack  said  very  cheerfully,  glad  at  the  turn 
the  conversation  had  taken. 

Mrs.  Kent  ceased  working  now  for  the  night, 
and,  folding  away  the  silk-velvet  gown,  she  came 
and  had  a  long  talk  with  Jack.  His  mother  had 
been  more    trying   than    ever ;   his   temper  got  be- 


<  .'flM^iiBrtaptcipf  iwi^wwu.i.r;  •■ 


DOUBTING  CASTLE. 


265 


at  Mildred's 
he  poor  speci- 
sen  his  lot  to 
he  reiTPTnbered 

below  the  very 
in  beings,"  he 
rever." 

t  as  God  made 
vorse.     A  horse 
1  nobler  than  a 
,  your  alley." 
9   a  fine-looking 
I  a   rich  home; 
igh  with   a   for- 

r  caU  him  names 
I  sorrowfully, 
m   only   get  his 
glad  at  the  turn 

w  for  the  night, 
gown,  she  came 
His  mother  had 

is   temper  got  be- 


yond   control,  »'  worf.   in   the   he.t   o     p«..on 
L  bee;  said  that  had  made  hi-n  utt^riy  a«p. 

of  ew  «g«n  trying  to  look  to  Uie  ^nUe  Chmt 
L  fo  ^ivTness.  Mrs.  Kent's  face  looW  exeeed^ 
i„gly  Zi  «hile  Jack  honestly  confessed  aU;  and 
ihont  saying  anything  to  hin,  P^-'"^^*-^^^ 
down.  Jack  and  Mddred  d.opp.ng  sdentiy  on 
«.eir  knees  too,  when  she  besought  God   so  ea™. 

estty  for  pardon  for  the  poor,  t«mpted  lad,  that  the 
Z  of  Wtter  penitence  Bowing  f^n.  b^  ey.  were 
at  last  sneceeded  by  tears  of  joy  I  and  when  he 
s^id  "good  nighV  be  went  on  hU  way  re,o.cmg 
"hav^for  the  time  well^igh  forgo«»n  Donbt. 
ing  Castle  and  its  misery. 


m 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

WAIFS  AMID  THE  FLOWERS. 

^HE  Saturday  dawned  at  last  brightly.    So 
many  little  hearts  had  dreaded  a  rainy  day, 
-Mildred  as  much  as  any  — that  when 
they  saw  the  sun  shining  in  an  almost  cloudless  sky, 
they  scarce  knew  how  to  contain  their  satisfaction. 
To  some  of  them  the  knowledge  that  they  were  to 
wander  at  will  through  green  fields,  and  see  the 
buds  and  flowers  really  growing,  was  the  principal 
attmction;  to  othei«  it  was  the  fact  that  they  were 
to  have   a  ride   behind  high-stepping  horses  in  a 
comfortable  carriage,  and  have   a  saU  on  the  lake; 
while  others  imagined  nothing  could  be  better  than 
the  toothsome   dainties  with  which  they  expected 
to   be   regaled,  with   gUmpses  caught  of  splendid 
rooms  with  all  the-  beauty  of  adornment. 


-1 


WAIFB  AMID  THE  FLOWERS. 


267 


ast  brightly.  So 
saded  a  rainy  day, 
any  —  that  when 
lost  cloudless  sky, 
their  satisfaction, 
that  they  were  to 
ilds,  and  see  the 
was  the  principal 
ct  that  they  were 
ping  horses  in  a 
sail  on  the  lake; 
lid  be  better  than 
eh  they  expected 
aght  of  splendid 
omment. 


Betsy  Jones's  family  decked  her  out  in  an  en- 
tirely new  suit  of  clothes,  in  style  quite  beyond 
her  position.  One  of  her  older  sisters  remarked, 
with  spiteful  pride,  as  parents,  brothers  and  sisters 
stood  regarding  her  with  admiration:  "That  doll- 
faced  Kent  girl'll  find  others  can  get  noticed  by  the 
quality  as  well  as  her."  Befoie  the  afternoon  was 
ended,  however,  Betsy  made  the  discovery  that 
other  things  were  essential  besides  fine  frocks  and 
hats  to  gain  the  affectionate  regard  of  the  favored 
classes. 

J)ouglas8  came  for  Mrs.  Kent  and  Mr.  Felton, 
while  the  rest  of  the  invited  gfuests  were  taken  in 
at  St.  Malachi's  gate  by  a  team  sent  on  purpose 
for  them.  Paul,  with  much  longing,  watched  the 
merry  crowd  stowing  themselves  into  the  roomy 
wagon,  and  wished  his  lot  had  been  cast,  for  a 
little  while,  in  their  way.  Jack  was  given  charge  to 
preserve  order,  and  watch  that  no  risks  were  run 
by  too  venturesome  spirits  —  an  authority  the  most 
of  them  were  inclined  to  resent,  since  they  felt 
equal  to  the  task  of  maintaining  the  proprieties,  and 
taking  care  of  themselves  as  well.  Betsy  Jones 
sat  in  uncomfortable  state,  her  ruffles  and  ribbons 
matters  of  extreme  anxiety,  since  Tommie   Tuffts' 


rp» 


n 


268 


MILDRED  KENT'S  BEBO. 


well-blackened  boots  kept  jostling  her  dress  on  one 
side,  while  Adelphine  Carver,  whose  mother  had 
found  out  the  secret  and  sent  her  along,  insisted 
on  sitting  beside  Betsy,  and  persisted  in  fin- 
gering her  finery.  To  some  of  the  little  waifs 
the  drive  was  cue  of  unalloyed  delight.  The  com- 
fortable carriage  and  sleek,  shining  horses,  the 
buttercups  and  daisies  nodding  at  them  from  road- 
side and  meadows,  the  trees  casting  their  cool 
shadows  athwart  the  sunbeams,  and  better  still,  the 
wonderland  ahead,  of  which  they  had  heard  so 
much.  Some  of  them  realized  all  this  in  a  dim 
fashion,  not  being  capable  of  labeling  their  im^ ces- 
sions, only  dumbly  experiencing  an  unknown  joy 
which  no  doubt  to  some  extent  would  remodel  all 
their  future  fancies.  One  never  can  me&iure  the 
influence  some  chance  circumstance  may  hive ;  and 
since  life  is  mainly  composed  of  separate  events 
which  we  or  our  associates  mainly  control,  we  are 
to  a  considerable  extent  the  arbiters  of  our  own  and 
our  companions'  destinies. 

The  carriages  rolled  np  the  long  avenue  with 
their  living  firiight  of  curious-eyed  children.  Betsy 
Jones  for  the  moment  ceased  to  be  conscious  of 
her  toilet,  as  she  gazed  at  tho  fountain  da^icing  in 


-  -  » 


her  dress  ou  one 

ose  mother  had 

along,   insisted 

irsisted  in    fin- 

the    little    wai& 

light.     The  cora- 

oing    horses,   the 

them  from  road- 

iting    their    cool 

id  better  still,  the 

ay   had   heard   so 

11  this  in  a  dim 

leling  their  imj^cres- 

an   unknown   joy 

rould  remodel  sdl 

can  me&'iure  the 

3e  may  hiive ;  and 

f  separate  events 

[y  control,  we  are 

irs  of  our  own  and 

ong  avenue   with 

1  children.     Betsy 

be    conscious    of 

untain  daicing  in 


WAIFB  AMID  THE  FLOWERS.  269 

the  sunbeams,  the  statues  gleaming  amid  the  lilies 
and  roses,  and,  beyond,  the  pillars  and  colonnades 
and  massive  proportions  generally  of  the  stately 
mansion  looming  up  in  the  distance. 

"  I  could  'most  think  it  was  heaven  I "  she 
ejaculated  impulsively;  while  at  the  same  moment 
Adelphine  Carver  turned  from  Betsy's  entrancing 
ribbons,  and  began  shrieking  for  some  flowers. 
Jack  cast  her  a  despairing  glance,  with  a  suddenly 
clouded  face,  as  he  muttered,  "There'll  be  no 
peace  with  you  here.  They  wouldn't  have  needed 
any  worse  Satan  in  Eden  to  pester  them  than 
you." 

« I  expect  little  Cain  was  another  such  a  nui- 
sance M  her,"  Tommy  Tuffts  remarked,  as  he 
squinted  ferociously  at  her. 

"  Much  you  kmow  about  tho  .ble.  Tommy  Tuffts. 
They  weren't  in  Eden  whei  ley  had  him,"  Betsy 
said  loftily. 

"You  needn't  be  so  sr.  rt:  I  didn't  say  they 
was,"  Tommy  responJe''  \^  Lth  a  flourish  of  his  feet 
that  was  particularly  ex  isperating,  and  effectually 
banished  further  heavenly  contemplation  from  Betsy's 
mind. 

Mrs.  Everett  was  standing  on   the  step«»   waiting 


270 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


to  receive  them,  a  white  gown  of  some  fleecy 
texture  floating  around  her,  —  or  so  it  seemed  to 
t}ie  curious  children,  accustomed  to  motherhood 
clad  in  very  sober  and  substantial  garments ;  a  bow 
of  ribbon  and  a  tiny  bunch  of  forget-me-nots  at 
her  throat  being  the  only  colors  that  she  wore, 
and  making  her  look  to  Mildred  like  some  kind, 
matronly  angel,  if  such  there  are  amid  the  heav- 
enly places.  Betsy  Jones's  eyes  rested  more  admir- 
ingly on  the  tall,  handsome  lad,  whose  head 
was  already  raised  a  few  inches  above  his  mother's. 

"Isn't  that  young  fellow  a  stunner!  If  you 
could  only  look  like  him,  Tommy  Tuffts ! "  Tommy 
breathed  a  deep  sigh,  and  was  silent.  Betsy  gave 
her  skirts  a  shake,  and  casting  over  them  a  scru- 
tinizing glance  that  was  also  reassuring,  preceded 
the  others  up  the  steps,  where  Mrs.  Everett 
stood  smiling  a  gracious  welcome.  A  general 
hand-shaking  ensued,  and  before  this  ceremony  was 
satisfactorily  ended  Adelphine  Carver  was  among  the 
flowers,  pulling  away  ruthlessly,  with  the  gardener 
standing  guard  over  those  he  was  most  anxious 
to  preserve. 

Jack  saw  her,  and  slipping  down,  attempted  to 
lead    her   away,   when   a   shrill  scream   disturbed 


to. 

of  some  fleecy 

lo  it  seemed    to 

to   motherhood 

garments ;  a  bow 

forget-me-nots  at 

that  she  wore, 

like  some  kind, 

amid    the   heav- 

sted  more  admir- 

ad,    whose    head 

,bove  his  mother's. 

itunner !     If   you 

ruffts ! "     Tommy 

lent.     Betsy  gave 

over  them  a  scru- 

ssuring,  preceded 

re    Mrs.    Everett 

>me.      A    general 

Ms  ceremony  was 

trer  was  among  the 

with  the  gardener 

ms  most  anxious , 

wn,  attempted  to 
scream   disturbed 


WAJFS  AHJD  THE  FLOWEHB. 

the  stillness  that  usually  reigned  at  Gi-assmere,  and 
Adelphine  refused  to  be  conveyed  to  another 
spot.  Mildred  turned  with  the  others*at  the  cry, 
and  saw  the  look  of  mortification  on  Jack's  face 
as  he  stood  holding  the  struggling  child. 

"  It  is  too  bad  for  his  afternoon  to  be  spoiled,"  she 
said  to  her  mother,  and  then .  went  directly  to  him. 
"Adelphine  generally  does  what  I  want  her  to.  I 
will  take  charge  of    ;■'   *or  you." 

Jack  turned  to  hoi  eagerly :  "  It  is  awfully  good 
of  you;  but  she  will  keep  you  from  having  a 
good  time." 

"  I  have  been  here  before  and  had  my  share,  and 
it  is  your  turn  now." 

"  She  is  nothing  to  you,  that  you  should  be  pes- 
tered with  her,"  Jack  said,  wishing  at  the  same  time 
very  heartily  that  the  mite  of  humanity  was  noth- 
ing to  him  either.  Mildred  soon  had  Adelphine 
conveyed  out  of  harm's  way,  decoying  her  cleverly 
into  a  wide  strip  of  meadow  where,  under  the 
apple-trees,  she  could  pick  wild-flowers  to  her 
heart's  content  and  make  daisy-chains  in  sufficient 
quantity  to  adorn  the  entire  Carver  connection. 

An  hour  or  two  later  Douglass  went  in  search 
of  Mildred,  and  found  her   sitting  on   the    ground 


F 


^^.^^Mi^mggaMsg 


Si ,  ^ 


272  MILDRED    KEST'8    BERO. 

•.V        Un  full   of  Adelphine'B   cliftins,  which  she 
with   a  lap  full   oi  ^     P  while  «he  contin- 

P'*?'  A    „«  VinM  alone?"  1» 

..Why  hay.  you  sttayed  o«  here  aion 

»» J  Xro-n,  hi^eU   Ml  length    on  the  g.a,» 

•"itklnian-t  have  a  good  tin.e  if  Adelphine 
J:L  any  chance  fo.  n^hie.,"  ^e  »ther  .r- 
rowfuUy  explained.  ^^ 

uDo  you  like  being  here  alone . 

„I  would  «ometimesr  --  the  guarded  reply. 

.Doyouto^ay?"  ^.^^     He 

*4l   enjoy  seeing   Jack   nave  a  «  „„„  i;te 

very  «ldom   h..   -h  a  chance   to  have   one  1*0 

'^tUaHogether  for  .aok.eake.  .hen,  that  you 

h.ve  bantahed  your»eli?" 

Mildred  nodded  her  head,  her  eyes  very  p. 
enUy  fixed  on  the  d.uey^hata  in  her  lap. 

..You  think  a  great  de»!  of  Jack? 

She  looked  up  in   »urpri.e.     "I  .upp»e  I  do.  I 
never  thought  of  it  before." 


^--» 


iilins,  which  she 
while  she  contin- 
Ired's    face    was 
urds  the  "grounds 
t  of   children  at 

here  alone?"  he 
^h   on  the  grass 

ime  if    Adelphine 
,"    she  rather  sor- 

>?" 
guarded  reply. 

I  good   time.    He 
to  have  one  like 

kke,  then,  that  you 

r  eyes  very  persist- 
in  her  lap. 
Jack?" 
»'I  suppose  I  do,  I 


WAIF8  AMID  THE  FLOWERS. 

.  There  is  no  one  in  the  world,  save  my  mother, 

who  would  make  the  sacrifice^  for  me  that  you  are 

doine  for  him  this  afternoon." 

Twould  do  .  gre»t  deal  more  ^  *•»  «or  yo» 

if  you  needed  it.    I  would  love  to  make  eome  great 

Jmee  for  you,"    .he   »id,  with  such  a  «,lemu 

voiee  that  it  touched  a  reeponaive  chord  m  Ae  lad  . 
hLt,  and  made  him  aahamed  of  hi,  jealousy  of 
^I^Jack  Carver,  to  whom  Mildred's  geude  tad- 
r„e»  wa,  one  of  a,e  few  glad  things  in  h„  de». 

late  existence.  ,.„.™v 

..you  will  forget  aU  about  me  when  I  am  away, 
I  won't  see  you  ag«r.  until  Chri,tm«." 

He- eyes  iiUed  with   tears.    •.  I  do  not  thrnk  I 
«  ever  forget  you,   not  even  whe.  I  get  away 
up  there."    She  lifted  her  eyes  to  the  calm   heav 
en,  lauding  aW  her,  no  more  '^^fVV^^ 
they     "I  have  so  much  more  to  make  rue  remem. 
tarVn  you  have,"   d,e  continued,  with  a  We 
^LsJt    that    was    l^^etic.  -I  won  er  ^ 
„uld  have  hecome  of  me  at  sehoo    bu^^fo    yo-^ 
People's  heart,  break  «>me»imes,  and  mme  felt  very 

badly,  that  day."  .  „    ^   tf   those   scliish 

..You  must  wnto  and   teu    me    u 
gi,b  torment  you  again.     Perhaps  you  wdl   wrrte 


274 


MILDRED  KEST'S  BERO. 

9"  H«  Hiioke    as    if  a  new  idea  had 
to  me  anyway?      He  spoKe 

iust  come  to  him. 

^  „        •  1,   ™n   t/^   T  will ;  but  I  shall 

"If  you  really  wwh   me   to,  i  wui ,  i* 

have  nothing  to  tell  you." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  can  write  about  Jack  Carver,  and 

vour  two  schools,  and  lots  of  things." 
'  !  I  can't  make  much  out  of  Jack,  for  he  has  mostly 
troubles  to   t«ll   about.     His   step-mother  «  a  very 
afflicting  sort  of  person." 

DougL  »■»«     He  decided  that  .f  tW  you*- 
,„.Adelpine.»ho».i«Btthe„p«^U„gMdd«^ 

h.„d»   impatiently,  wae  a  (air  sample   »'   "'"^ 
of  her  kin    J«=k  needed  .11  U>e  .clement  Mddred 

pould  bestow.  ,  .  .. 

! See  here,  little  one-    If  you  don't  keep  qm^ 

I  „iU  do   eomething  to   you  that  yoa  won  t  very 

::  forget."    He  apoke  so   etemly  to  the  heU,^ 

«nt   Adelphine   that  .he  st^od   ga..ng  at  hun  m 

r;echleas  wonder  for  .  few  aeeonds,  her  ga»  m.t 

Ta  look  in  those  »tem,  dark  eye«  *at  some  day 

.    Iht  make  on.  made   o.  sten>er  stuff  than  UtUe 

TLphine  quad.     Her  lip  ,uive,.d,  and   she   W.B 

ahout  to  break  forth  in  one  of  her  di»»^t  sc«.n»^ 

when  he  half  raised  himself,  looking  at  her   w^ 

,ueh  stem  command  that  she  suddenly  changed  her 


-1 


WAIFB  AMID  THK  FLOWERB. 


m 


new  idea  had 
ill ;  but  I  shall 
ack  Carver,  and 

8." 

or  he  has  mostly 
other  is  a  very 


lat  if  the  youth- 
)ulling  Mildred's 
iple  of  the  rest 
lacement  Mildred 

don't  keep  quiet 
you  won't  very 
ly  to  the  bellige- 
^ziug  at  him  in 
ids,  her  gaze  met 
Bs  that  some  day 
stuff  than  little 
ed,  and  she  was 
iscordant  screams, 
ing  at  her  with 
ienly  changed  her 


mind,  trotting  some  distance  off,  and  appeasing  her 
wrath  by  a  wholesale  destruction  of  any  blossoms 
that  came  within  reach. 

Douglass  lay  down  again  in  the  grass  very  calmly 
while  Mildred  looked  first  at  Adelphine  and  then 
at  him,  with  a  mixture  of  admiration  and  awe.  *'  I 
do  not  think  any  one  ever  conquered  her  before, 
and  you  did  it  so  easily!" 

"  Never  mind  that  little  Turk ;  it  is  a  sheer  waste 
for  you  to  lose  all  the  afternoon  with  her." 

«'But  I  have  not  lost  it.  I  do  not  think  you 
and  I  ever  got  so  well  acquainted  before.  This 
is  the  very  nicest  time  I  have  ever  had  at  Grass- 
mere,  or  anywhere.  I  did  not  know  before  that  you 
really  liked  me.  I  thought  it  was  only  pity,  and 
because  you  were  good  and  noble  that  made  you 
kind  to  me.  Connie  told  me  once  you  always  took 
the  part  of  lame  kittens  and  things."  Her  face 
was  quite  radiant  with  the  assurance  that  Douglass 
liked  her  for  herself;  for  some  way,  without  any 
positive  assurance  on  his  part,  she  felt  certain  now 
that  he  did. 

"  We  are  only  boy  and  girl  yet,  but  by  and  by 
we  will  be  man  and  woman.  We  must  still  be 
friends  then.     Remember  that,  Mildred." 


■■wst4^a.a5^-<»M,-aiiijtg,i(fMiitaairii»"it»^» 


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Collection  de 
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Canadian  Instituta  for  Historical  Microraproductiont  /  inatitut  Canadian  da  microraproductions  hiatoriquaa 


'^''«Mlp>U,-' 


--  T 


276 


MILDRED  KKNT'S  HERO. 


"  Yes,  but  maybe  you  will  forget.  I  won't  think 
it  hard  if  you  do,  and  I  won't  be  surprised;  for  it 
is  etisier  for  us  to  be  friends  now,  — the  difference 
don't  seem  as  gieat  as  it  will  then.  You  know  I 
will  be  a  working  woman,  and  you  a  rich  man 
Avith  a  great  many  friends,"  she  added,  with  a 
catching  of  the  breath  aa  if  the  thought  gave  her 

pain. 

"But,  Mildred,  I  shall  always  know  you  are 
pure  and  true,  and  that  God  gave  you  the  in- 
stincts of  a  lady,  no  matter  how  much  of  a  work- 
ing woman  you  may  be.  I  do  not  think  I  shall  be 
the  first  to  forget." 

He  stood  up  and  looked  away  across  the  mead- 
■  ows  and  beyond  the  trees  that  lay  below  then^  on 
the  liillside  towards  the  city,  a.'  if  he  was  already 
in  the  far  future,  and  mingling  in  the  great  busy 
world.  Mildred  looked  up  at  him  as  some  pure- 
faced  woi-shipper  of  olden  times  might  have  gazed 
at. the  saintly  face  of  hermit  or  crusader,  and  did 
not  feel  surprised  that  this  ricWy-gifted  youth  so 
earnestly  craved  her  enduring  friendship. 

"You  must  come  away,"  he  said,  abruptly.  "We 
will  put  that  kitten  in  a  box,  if  no  other  plan 
presents    iteelf,   and   not    waste    all    your    holiday 


■-'   •^'"^'^^^^^^00^'-  ' 


..._.   ^-v 


WAIFB  AMID  THE  FLOWERS. 


277 


I  won't  think 
rprised ;  for  it 
the  difference 
You  know  I 
u  a  rich  man 
bdded,  with  a 
ight  gave  her 

mow  you  are 
9  you  the  in- 
ich  of  a  work- 
liink  I  shall  he 

ross  the  mead- 
below  them  on 
he  was  already 
the  great  busy 
[  as  some  pure- 
^ht  have  gazed 
usader,  and  did 
gifted  youth  so 
dship. 

,  abruptly.  "We 
f  no  other  plan 
1    your    holiday 


among  the  buttercups.    Come,  we  are  going  for  a 

saU." 

Mildred  stood  up  obediently,  calling  to  Adelphine 
to  join  them,  and  then  burdened   herself   with  the 
huge  bunches  of  wild-flowers  in   obedience   to   her 
small   tormentoi,  who  was  growing   fretful  already 
over  their  wilted  appearance.     Douglass  walked  be- 
side MUdred  over  the  springing  grasses,  Adelphine 
following   disconsolately   behind.    She    was   angry, 
and  longed   to  give  expression   to  her  sentiments; 
b'jt  a  new  experience  had  a  short  time  before  been 
gKinted  her:   that  big  fellow  ahead  looked  so  stem, 
she  concluded  her  safest  course  was  to  keep  quiet 
until  she  reached  Jack's  shelter ;  then  she  resolved 
they  should  hear  from  her ;  but  fortunately  it  was 
so  long  before  she  got  a  glimpse  of  her  brother, 
and  so  many  other  attractions  presented  themselves, 
that  her  tear^hfidding  was  postponed  much  beyond 
her  intentions.     Not  until   the   horses   were   again 
reined  up  at  the  door   and   the   children    climbing 
into    the    carriage,    their    holiday,    like    all   sweet 
things,   too  soon   ended,  did  Adelphine  recall  her 
usually  effective  powers  of  resistance. 

"I  won't  go  home,"  she  screamed  frantically,  as 
Jack,  with  a  tortured  look  on  his  face,  was  trying 
to  force  her  into   the  carriage.     "I   want  to   stay 


ill 
f 

i 


HI! 


iiti 


"] 


278 


MILOHED  KENT'S  HERO. 


here.  I  shan't  go,  there  now !  "  she  shrieked,  stnig^ 
gling  to  the  ground,  and  rushing  blindly  over  the 
flower-beds  in  her  eagerness  to  escape  from  Jack. 
But  her  steps  were  suddenly  arrested;  for,  chanc- 
ing to  look   up,  there   stood  Douglass  just   before 

her. 

"  Stand  still !  "  he  said,  so  sternly  that  she  paused 
involuntarily,  and  in  a  trice  her  hand  was  seized 
and  held  firmly  until  Jack  came  and  took  her, 
looking  himself  more  like  the  culprit.  Douglass 
walked  beside  him  to  the  carriage  and  lifted  the 
seK-willed  girl  among  the  happy  crowd,  their  laps 
and  hands  filled  with  great  bunches  of  flowers, 
which  Mrs.  Everett  had  allowed  them  the  exqui- 
site pleasure  of  gathering  themselves. 

While  Douglass  was  in  sight,  Adelphine  kept 
her  feelings  well  under  control;  but  the  horses' 
heads  turned  towards  the  gate  and  his  face  con- 
cealed, her  voice  could  be  heard  across  the  dewy, 
perfumed  8^)aces  for  a  long  way.  Douglass  went 
to  the  little  group  standing  some  little  distance 
away,  his    fine    face    clouded  with  impatience  and 

disgust. 

"What  are  such  creatures  made  for,  I  wonder? 
That  boy  is  a  martyr  to  her  caprices  and  tern- 
per. 


"] 


tmeked,  stnig- 
ndly  over  the 
pe  from  Jack. 
I;  for,  chanc- 
i»  just   before 

hat  she  paused 
nd  was  seized 
ind  took  her, 
rit.  Douglass 
and  lifted  the 
iwd,  their  laps 
les  of  flowers, 
lem  the  exqui- 
I. 

Ldelphine  kept 
tut  the  horses' 

his  face  con- 
cross  the  dewy, 
Douglass  went 

little  distance 
impatience  and 

for,  I  wonder? 
prices  and  tem- 


WAIFS  AMID  THE  FLOWERS. 


279 


» He  told  me  he  was  going  to  leave  them,  and 
get  a  home  of  his  own,  just  as  soon  as  he  gets 
old  enough,"  Mildred  said  cheerfully.  She  felt  so 
mrely  content,  and  the  world  and  life  seemed  so 
charming,  she  could  not  well  pity  any  one   who 

was  alive. 

«I  see  he  takes  you  into  his  confidence,"  Mrs. 

Everett  said. 

"We  plan  together  what  we  shall  do  when  we 

are  grown  up." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?    Be  a  great  art- 

ist,  I  presume." 

"She  is  going  to  be  a  missionary,"  Paul  has- 
tened to  explain,  glad  of  a  chance  to  add  his 
quota  to  the  general  fund  of  entertainment.  "She 
says  that  maybe  the  savages  will  eat  her.  I 
would  not  give  them  a  chance  if  I  was  her, 
would  you?"  hfe  asked,  turning  to  Douglass,  who 
was  one  of  the  greatest  heroes  on  earth,  in  Paul's 

eyes. 

"I  must  confess  it  is  not  a  very  enticing  out- 
look," Douglass  smUed  down  into  the  eager,  up- 
turned face. 

"She  may  change  her  mind  before  she  is  big 
enough    to   go,"  Paul  said,  with   an   air   of   reUef. 


!  !-■ 


'   '*[■  'I jJ;wWffi1SB^^f.«i3ftfei'Ab>i'^.ai 


M 


"X 


280 


MILDRED  KEXT'8  HERO. 


"It  is  a  long  way  over  the  seas.  The  heathens 
live  thousands  and  thousands  of  miles  away.  She 
says  we  shall  never  see  her  again  after  she  once 
gets  started."  Grace's  blue  eyes  were  filling  with 
tears  while  Paul  made  his  speech.  This  future 
career  of  Mildred's  was  a  very  real  thing  to  both 
the  children,  as  well  as  a  very  sad  one. 

"  She  may  turn  housekeeper  for  Jack  Carver,  in- 
stead. No  doubt  he  will  be  very  anxious  to  have 
her  when  he  gets  that  separate  establishment  of  his 

set  up." 

Mildred  looked  up  with  so  much  surprise,  not 
unmingled  with  pain,  that  Douglass  felt  ashamed  of 
his  words,  and  turned  to  Mr.  Felton,  who  was 
standing  a  little  apart  now  with  the  ladies. 

"You  have  a  great  deal  to  be  thankfvd  for. 
Compare  what  God  has  given  to  you  with  the 
little  those  childi-en  have,  who  to-day  shared  your 
bounty.  I  am  not  sure  if  I  would  not  rather 
stand  in  Jack  Carver's  place  in  the  last  day  than 
yours,  if  the  choice  were  offered  me,  your  temp- 
tations are  so  gi-eat." 

Mr.  Felton  spoke  with  a  solemnity  that  sobered 
Douglass.  The  poor  man  had  been  struggling  with 
his  conscience  for  some  hours.     He  longed  to  gain 


The  heathens 
es  away.  She 
after  she  once 
sre  filling  with 
This  future 
thing  to  both 
one. 

ack  Carver,  in- 
ixious  to  have 
lishment  of  his 

I    surprise,    not 
felt  ashamed  of 
Lton,    who    was 
a  ladies. 
a   thankful  for. 

you  with  the 
lay  shared  your 
uld    not  rather 

last  day  than 
le,    your    temp- 

ty  that  sobered 
struggling  with 
longed  to  gain 


WAIFB  AMID  THE  FLOWESa. 


281 


the  lad's  esteem;  but  then  duty  faced  him  sternly, 
making  it  impossible   to   go   on   smoothly   talking 
and  enjoying  the  charmmg  hospitality  of  the  gra- 
*     cious  mistress   and   youthful   master  of   Grassmere, 
and  then  to  go  away,  possibly  never  again  to  have  an 
opportunity  to  do  his  duty.      The  majestic  fathers 
and    confessors    of    the    church    of    God    through 
the   centuries   came   out   in   long   array,  and  there 
stood  out  vividly  before  his  imagination  their  val- 
orous defence  of  truth  and  answering  obedience  to 
conscience.     With  their  lives  in  their  hands,  and 
before  kings  and  emperors,  they  spoke  the  truth 
bravely.     Should    he    then   dare    to    withhold   his 
word  of  counsel  from  this    gracious   lad  who   had 
)jeen    so  kind?    The    very  timidity  of  his   nature 
made  him  speak  the  more  sternly. 

Douglass  thanked  him  gently,  saying,  with  boy- 
ish fi-ankness,  "  Most  persons  flatter  me,  and  say 
how  they  would  like  to  change  places  with  me. 
I  do  not  think  anyone,  save  my  mother,  ever  spoke 
to  me  before  of  my  danger  and  responsibility.  I 
shall  always  think  of  you,  Mr.  Felton,  and  respect 
you  for  your  faithfulness." 

"  I  hope  God  will  lead  you  in  a  path  of  useful- 
ness and  devotion  to  his  cause. " 


■ft 

^  , 


■"\ 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

*»  I  hope  He  has  begun  so  to  lead  me,"  Douglass 
said,  in  a  voice  so  low  that  even  Mr.  Felton,  who 
stood  at  liis  side,  scarcely  caught  his  woi-ds. 
It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  spoken  of  the 
hope  to  any  one  but  his  own  mother;  and  the 
usual  Imshfulnes.^  that  makes  confessions  so  hard, 
made  his  voice  tremulous ;  but  his  heart  felt 
strangely  light  and  glad  after  he  had  spoken.  But 
he  turned  abruptly  away,  and  went  back  to  Mil- 
dred, who  stood  looking  down  into  the  heart  of  a 
magnificent  lily. 

"Do  you  think  it  so  very  perfect  that  you  gaze 
at  it  so  long?"  he  asked  after  standing  in  silence 
for  a  while,  feeling  nt  the  same  time  ashamed  of 
his  last  words  to  her,  and  anxious  lest  she  might 
be  offended.  He  kept  judging  her  always  by  the 
young  girls  of  his  acquaintance. 

She  drew  a  long  sigh,  —  whether  of  perfect  con- 
tent or  sorrow  he  could  not  tell, — until  a  moment 
after  she  looked  up  in  his  face :  "  I  have  been  won- 
dering what  our  Saviour  thought  when  he  made  this 
flower.  His  thoughts  then  must  have  been  very 
beautiful, — not  like  those  he  had  when  he  made 
lizards  and  crocodiles." 

«I  never  imagined  Him  creating  things,"  Doug- 


—  V 


WArFS  AMID   THE  FLOW K US. 


288 


1  me,"  Douglass 
Ir.  Felton,  who 
ht    his     woi-ds. 

spoken  of  the 
■)ther ;  and  the 
issions  so  hard, 
his  heart  felt 
ad  spoken.  But 
it  back  to   Mil- 

the  heart  of  a 

t  that  you  gaze 

nding  in  silence 

me  ashamed  of 

lest  she   might 

always  by  the 

r  of  perfect  con- 
-  until  a  moment 
]  have  been  won- 
hen  he  made  this 
have  been  very 
1  when  he  made 

f  things,"  Doug- 


lass said,  with  a  sudden  brightening  of  countenance. 
"  I  always  thought  God,  the  Father,  created  every- 
thing."    He  was  struck  witli  the  unworldliness   of 
the  girl,  going   down   so    far   beyond   her   present 
surroundings,  and  the  strong  fascination  he  knew 
Grassmere    held    for    her,   to  speculating    on    the 
thoughts  of   the   great   Maker  of   all  things,  when 
some   specially  fine  work   of  creation  was  com.let- 
ed.     He   had  been   blaming  himself  just  now   for 
troubling  her  with  his  own  narrow,  selfish  fancies 
about  Jack  Carver,  and  in  her  strange  unconscious- 
ness  of  such  things  she  had  been  forgetting  about 
the  both  of  them,  her  meditations  taking  a  vastly 

higher  range. 

"Don't  you  think  about  common  things,  MU- 
dred?"  he  asked,  with  a  curious,  boyish  impa- 
tience. 

"What  do  you  call  common?"  she  asked,  a 
deeper  tinge  coming  into  her  rose-leaf  cheek. 

"Oh,  such  things  aa  all  girls  talk  and  tvjik 
about.  Do  you  really  mean  to  be  a  missionary, 
as  Paul  says?" 

"Yes,  if  God  will  let  me." 

"And  you  do  not  look  forward  then  to  having 
a  nice  home  of  your  own  some  day,  and  making 


-'\ 


284  MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

some  favored  person  perfectly  happy  with  your  lev- 

ing  care?" 

"I  expect  missionaries  have  little  homes  of 
their  own,  and  they  can  make  such  lota  of  poor 
people  happy.  Have  you  never  read  particularly 
about  them?"  She  looked  up  timidly,  but  with 
surprise  at  his  unexpected  ignorance  of  such  high 

matters. 

"Oh,  yee,  I  have  read  about  them,  certainly; 
but  I  shall  take  more  interest  in  them  after  this 
if  you  are  going  to  join  them  by-and-by." 

"If  you  would  wait  until  then,  I  could  write 
such  lovely  letters,"  she  said,  rather  too  eagerly; 
the  correspondence  Douglass  had  spoken  of  was 
already  weighing  on  her  mind,  for  how  could  she 
frame  a  letter  that  a  young  man  at  college  would 
have   patience  to  read? 

"  If  you  were  thousands  and  thousands  of  miles 
away,  as  Paul  says,  I  do  not  think  I  would 
have  much  heart  to  write  to  you;  you  would 
seem  to  me  then  like  the  angels  away  above  us." 
He  glanced  up  at  the  far  purpling  depths  where 
the  stars  were  modestly  taking  their  places  along 

the  welkin. 

"Would  you  like  that  flower?"   he  asked,  sud- 


0. 

'  with  your  lov- 

ittle  homes  of 
Bh  lots  of  poor 
sad  particularly^ 
lidly,  but  with 
}e  of  such  high 

;hem,  certainly ; 
them  after  this 
nd-by." 

,  I  could  write 
ler  too  eagerly; 
spoken  of  was 
r  how  could  she 
at  college  would 

>u8ands  of  miles 
think  I  would 
ou ;  you  would 
away  above  us." 
ng  depths  where 
leir  places  along 

'  he  asked,  sud- 


WAIF8  AMID  THE  FLOWKRB 

denly  turning  the   conversation. 

for  you?" 

"  I  had  rather   not,"  she   said,   laying  her  hand 
on  his  arm  as  he  reached  forth  to  pluck  it.     "  I 
will  like  to  think  of  it  as  mine  if  you   will  give 
it  to  me,  but   still    llviag    and    growing    here.     I 
think  I  can  keep  it   mine   until   the   snow   comes. 
You  know  I  won't  see  Grassmere  again  very  soon, 
perhaps  never,  for  you  will  be  too  much  of  a  man 
next  year  to  think  about  us  children."     She   gave 
her  head  a  pathetic  little    nod,  and  then   swept  a 
wide,  loving  glance  over  all  the   fair  landscape   on 
which  the  twilight  shadows  were  fast  deepening. 

In  a  short  time  the  carriage  was  waiting  for 
them,  and  Mr.  Felton  and  Mrs.  Kent  and  the  chil- 
dren said  good-bye;  and  at  Mr.  Felton's  request 
the  coachman  drove  them  slowly  home  through 
the  gathering  night^hadows. 

..  The  day  has  been  so  perfect,"  he  said  dream- 
Uy  "I  would  like  to  lengthen  it  out  as  long  as 
poLible.  We  workers  do  not  have  too  many  such 
seasons  as  this." 


I 


''^^If^'f^f^fS^', 


I 


-1 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


PORTRAIT-PAINTING. 


\  I  /he  holidays  ended,  Mildred  returned  with 
^\L.     much    eagerness    to    the     Park     Avenue 

^  School  for  her  second  year.  Her  mother 
no  longer  needed  to  practise  such  stem  economy, 
for  she  was  becoming'  well  known  as  a  highly 
skilled  needle-woman. 

If  it  was  necessary  to  work  very  often  from 
dawn  to  sunset  of  a  long  summer's  day,  she  always 
had  her  work  now  at  home  in  her  own  well-aired 
and  sunny  rooms,  with  her  bright-faced,  cheerful 
children  for  companions.  Mildred  now  was  able  to 
wear  whole  shoes  and  garments  made  out  of  good 
material,  so  that  she  no  longer  expected  to  be  sub- 
jected  to    the   martyrdom  of   shabby  clothes,  with 


"1 


,».,..«..5S^ 


returned   with 

Park     Avenue 

r.     Her  mother 

stem    economy, 

n   as   a  highly 

ery  often  from 
day,  she  always 
own  well-aired 
-faced,  cheerful 
now  was  able  to 
de  out  of  good 
jcted  to  be  sub- 
)y  clothes,  with 


PORTRAIT-PA INTING. 


287 


outspoken    criticisms    thereon   by  sarcastic    school- 
mates ;  but  she  found,  after  all,  that  her  return  to 
school    had  its  measure   of   desolation.     There  was 
no  one  henceforth  to   stand   between    her  and   im- 
pertinent schoolfellows.     They  could    sneer  at  her 
mother's  humble   calling   and  her  own  lowly  posi- 
tion in  society  without  let  or  hindrance   from   the 
one  who  had  hitherto  shielded    her.     As   Mildred 
returned  that  evening  along  the  hot,  dusty  streets, 
she  wished  one's  education  could  be  picked  up  in 
the  happy  fashion    that    the  robins  and    bobolinks 
get  their  training  for  a  life  of  usefulness;   and  it 
must  be  confessed  she  looked  forward  >vith  a  strong 
measure  of  desire  for  the  time  to  come  when  she 
should  slip  away  from  the  environments  of  our  high 
civilization  to  the  dark^kinned  tribes  whose  keenest 
recollections  of  each  other's  ancestors  would  prob- 
ably be  how  they  tasted  after  a  careful  and  judi- 
cious roasting. 

"But  I  expect  their  great-grandchildren  will 
taunt  each  other  after  I  am  dead  and  gone  for 
not  being  as  rich  or  well  connected  as  they  are," 
she  said  to  herself,  with  a  sorrowful  regret  that 
human  nature  was  naturally  so  very  cruel;  while 
she   wondered  if  it  was  really  worth  while  intro- 


f 


m 


17 


—  1 


288 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


I 


ducing  among  the  ignorant  tribes  of  heathendom 
the  defects  of  our  splendid  civilization,  since  the 
good  and  evil  go  hand  in  hand  mostly.  "I  am 
surprised  that  things  don't  get  wound  up  and  the 
wrorld  made  o^er  again,"   she  said  to  herself  at  last, 

very  wearily. 

As    she    turned    into    the  school-yard  gate  that 
morning,  she  saw  Connie  De  Smythe  a  little  way 
off,   stepping  along   in    a    very   stylish   new   suit. 
Mildred  went  to  her,  pleased  to  be  with  her  old 
playfellow  again;   but  Connie  met  her  icily,   and 
scarcely    responded    to    her    greetings.       Mildred 
turned   away   and    did    not   attempt   any    further 
overtures    at   friendliness,  but   entered  the  school- 
house  alone.     She  hung  her  hat. and  lunch-basket 
in  the  cloak-room,  and  then  sat  down  at  her  desk 
with  a  set,  resolute  look  on  the  usually   patient 
face.     Down    in    her    still,    strong    nature  a  new 
resolution  sprang   into  life.    Some  day,  in   this  or 
some  other  world,  she  would  prove    to  Connie  De 
Smythe,    and    all    the    unkind   crowd   of  haughty 
schoolmates,    that    she    was    their    equal,   as   God 
reckons  equality.     She  took  out  her  books  and  set 
her   desk  in   order,  — a   fly   droning  on  the    win- 
dow near  by  the  only  living  presence  in  the  room 


.mm. 


PORTRAIT-PAINTINQ. 


289 


of  heathendom 
sation,  since   the 

mostly.  "I  am 
[)und  up  and  the 
to  herself  at  last, 

)l-yard  gate  that 
irthe  a  little  way 
tylish   new   suit, 
be  with  her  old 
it  her  icily,   and 
itings.       Mildred 
mpt   any    further 
tered  the  school- 
and  lunch-basket 
lown  at  her  desk 
5  usually   patient 
g    nature  a  new 
e  day,  in   this  or 
ve    to  Connie  De 
rowd   of  haughty 
r    equal,   as   God 
her  books  and  set 
ling   on  the    win- 
lence  in  the  room 


whose  voice  wa«  within  the  compass  of  her  hear, 
ing.  It  soothed  at  last  the  commotion  in  her  heart, 
as  she  sat  looking  up  at  its  vain  attempt  to  pene- 
trate the  glasa  and  gain  the  freedom  of  the  out- 
side world.  "  Everything  alive  must  have  its  limita- 
tions and  perplexities;  not  anything  or  anybody, 
from  tbe  fly  on  the  window  t»  the  queen  on  her 
throne,  is  perfectly  liappy,"  she  said  to  herself,  try- 
ing to  console  herself  with  th4  reflecUon.  Her 
drawing-teacher.  Miss    Leslie,  came  in,  and  seeing 

Mildred  alone,  came  and  stood  beside  her. 

« I  am  glad  to  see  you  here,"  she  said  very  kindly. 

"I  expect  these  little  fingers  will  accomplish  some 

excellent  work  in  my  department  this  year." 

Mildred's  face  looked  brighter,  while  the  thought 

suddenly  came  to  her  that  she  might  find  a  com- 

panionship  more  assured  in  her  studies,  and  mor« 

particularly  in  her  drawing-lessons. 

«I   am  going  to  do  my  best,"  she  said  quietly. 

"One  don't  get  disappointed  in   these  things,  as 

they  do  in  human  beings." 

"I  am  not  sure  of  that.     Very  few  persons  get 

their  ideals  satisfied  in  art,  any  more  than  in  hu- 

manity." 

"But  duty  is  always  the  same,  while  people  are 


i!' 


290  MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

sometimes  very  kind,  and  at  others  they  will  hardly 
speak   to  you,— at  least,  that   is    the    way    with 

gu-ls." 

"  And  the  girl  is  mother  to  the  woman.  Human 
nature,  unassisted  by  Divine  grace,  does  not  outgrow 
its  early  defects,  as  a  rule.  Our  wisest  plan  is  not 
to  expect  much  from  anything  that  belongs  to  this 
world  solely  ;  if  we  do,  life  Is  certain  to  be  one  con- 
tinued round  of  disappointments." 

Mildred  looked  up  quickly:  "But  there  are 
people  who  find  things  to  their  minds.  The  rich 
girls  have  everything  they  want." 

"Study  their  faces  closely,  Mildred,  and  see  if 
they  look  happier  than  others  not  so  highly  blessed 
by  fortune.  I  have  thought  for  a  good  many  years 
that  the  rich  get  really  the  least  good  out  of  life ; 
that  is,  the  ill-trained  money-holders.  They  do  not 
know  how  to  use  their  possessions  wisely,  and  they 
have  the  unrest  of  idleness,  with  the  terror  of  having 
at  last  to  face  death  when  they  will  be  stripped  of 
all  their  enjoyments." 

"  If  we  have  our  best  treasures  within  ourselves. 
Death  can  never  rob  us,"  Mildred  said  reflectively. 
"  We  can  carry  our  knowledge  and  the  joy  it  brings 
us  into  other  worlds,  if  we  love  God." 


^W^^^i.^fif^ 


TORTBAIT-PAINTINO. 


291 


hey  will  hardly 
the    way    with 

Oman.     Human 

)es  not  outgrow 

jest  plan  is  not 

belongs  to  this 

I  to  be  one  con- 
But    there   are 

linds.     The  rich 

ired,  and  see  if 
lo  highly  blessed 
;ood  many  years 
ood  out  of  life ; 
s.  They  do  not 
wisely,  and  they 
terror  of  having 

II  be  stripped  of 

within  ourselves, 
said  reflectively, 
the  joy  it  brings 
od." 


"  You  are  young  to  learn  that.  Have  you  discov- 
ered the  secret  of  loving  Him?"  Miss  LesUe  asked, 
with  surprise. 

"I  believe  He  gave  me  a  new  heart  last  win- 
ter," Mildred  said  gently. 

"Then  you  need  not  mind  the  indifference  of 
school-fellows,  or  the  scorn  of  the  world,  or  life's 
miseries  generally.  The  young  have  usually  a  good 
many  of  the  latter." 

"I  try  not  to,  but  one  likes  the  pleasures  we 
get  from  both  worlds." 

"You  must  think  a  great  deal  for  one  so  young." 
"Perhaps  I  do.    I  never  went  to  school  until  last 

year." 

The  teacher  smiled.  "You  ar«  not  complimentary 
to  the  schools.  We  generally  suppose  they  are  to 
waken  and  stimulate  thought ;  but  we  will  talk  over 
these  knotty  subjects  by-and-by.  I  am  very  glad 
you  are  coming  into  my  class   this  year  as  a  reg- 

ular  student." 

» I  am  more  glad  than  you  can  be ;  for  yoii  do 
not  treat  me  as  the  other  teachers." 

Tlie  lady  smiled  again  at  Mildred's  frank  words, 
but  she  understood  her  reference  to  the  other  teach- 
ers.   She  had  ideas  of  her  own  respecting  the  relar 


—  1 


mOMtm 


292  MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

tions  existing  between  t«acher  and  pupil.  She  had 
never  found  that  in  treating  the  latter  aa  perfect 
equals  they  had  presumed  on  the  concession  gen- 
erously given. 

After  this,  Mildred  made  no  further  advances  to 
Connie  or  any  of  her  schoolmates.    Without  any 
words  on  her  part  she  felt  instinctively  from  their 
attitude  that  it  would  only  end  painfuUy ;  and,  tak- 
ing Connie's  rebuff  as  the  final  decision  of  all,  she 
shmnk  altogether  within  herself  until  at  last  she  was 
regarded  among  the  others  as  little  more  of  a  per- 
sonality than  their  own  shadows.     The  children  at 
home  for  a  while  asked  why  Beth   and  Connie  no 
longer  came ;  but  Mildred's  answers   were   not  ef- 
fusive, and  soon  they  ceased  to  mention  them.     The 
days  and  weeks   slipped   by,  not  so  joyously,  it  is 
true,  as  they  might  have  done  for  the  solitary  child; 
but  the  discipline  was,  no  doubt,  of  itself  an  edu- 
cator.    Her  mind  was  cast  on  its  own  mt«mal  re- 
sources for  companionship,  and  thus  it  became  more 
active  and  intense  in  its  operations,  while  every  fac- 
ulty was  at  the  highest  tension. 

Her  mother  was  not  ignorant  of  the  isokted  po- 
sition Mildred  occupied  in  the  school,  —  not  fiom 
anything  she  said,  however,  but  from   her  very  si- 


lls 


PORTRAIT-PAINTINO. 


29d 


upil.  She  had 
tier  as  perfect 
3once8sion  gen- 

ler  advances  to 
Without  any 
/ely  from  their 
fully ;  and,  tak- 
sion  of  all,  she 
at  last  she  was 
more  of  a  per- 
rhe  children  at 
and  Connie  no 
\   were   not  ef- 
ion  them.     The 
)  joyously,  it  is 
e  solitary  child ; 
f  itself  an  edu- 
)wn  internal  re- 
)  it  became  more 
while  every  fac- 

the  isolated  po- 
lool,  —  not  fiom 
om   her  very  si- 


lence in  regard  to  them ;  but  as  she  usually  main- 
tained a  quiet  cheerfulness,  and  her  health  was 
certainly  not  being  injured,  as  she  had  never  been 
more  robust,  she  concluded  it  was  wisest  to  keep 
silence  herself  on  the  matter,  and  let  her  remain  at 
school  until  she  graduated. 

The  weeks  wore  on  with  such   even   monotony 
that  Mildred,  absorbed  in  her  studies,  scarcely  noticed 
their  flight   until  the   air  was   beginning   to  grow 
chill,  and  a  few  stray  snowflakes  heralded  the  grand 
army  rapidly  approaching;  while  from  every  group 
of  school-fellows  she  heard  mention  made  of  what 
they  were  going  to  have  or  do  on    Thanksgiving 
Day.     Her  own  mother  stUl  kept  up  in  her  fam- 
Uy  the  old  English  custom  of  celebrating  Christ- 
mas as  the  chief  galaxy  of  the  entire  year,  and  had 
not  yet  caught  the  infection  of  Ainerican  Thanks- 
giving    rejoicings.    But  Mildred    fell   to   thinking 
about  it,  and   made   up  her  mind  finally  that  she 
had"  a  very  just  right  to  observe    the  day,  for  she 
had  certainly  great  cause  for  thankfulness ;  while 
8he  felt  a  desire  throbbing  i-estiessly  in  her  heart 
to  include  some  one  else,  not   so  richly  blessed  as 
herself,  in  her  sacrifices  of  gratitude.     She  became 
daily  more  anxious  to   earn   some   money,  so   that 


M 


.„  _.  ^-^    —  T 


294  MILDRED  KEUrS  HERO. 

she   might  help   Jack  Canrer  and  a  few  others  to 
be    thankful  with   her.     Her   portrait-painting  had 
died  a  natural    death   from   the   lack   of  patrons, 
but  she  concluded  to  try  once  more.     So  choosing 
one  of  the  faces  among  her  daUy  companions  that 
she  liked  best,  she  set  herself  with  all  dUigence  to 
reproduce  it  on  paper.     Finished  at  last,  she   took 
it  to  her  teacher   for   inspection,  asking   timidly  if 
it  was  worth  any  money  at  all.    Miss  Leslie   took 
it    with  a  humorous  gleam   on   her  usually   sober 
face.     "Is  it   possible  you   are  so  ambitious  as  to 
turn    porti-aiirpainter?"    she    asked,   unrolling   the 
picture  for  inspection;  but  as   she  looked  her  ex- 
pression changed,  and   MUdred's   turn  for   surprise 
came  while  she  listened  to  the  words  of  commen- 
dation  that  feU  impulsively  from  her  teacher. 
"Is  this  your  first  attempt?"  she  asked. 
"Oh,    no,    I    have    been    taking   likenesses    for 

years." 

"  But  an  old  artist  might  envy  you  the  soul  you 
have  put  into  that  face.  Magdalene  Grant  will 
never    look    so    thoughtful    m    that,— it   flatters 

her." 

"That  is  a  trouble  I  always  have  with  them.  I 
give   my  portraits  a  better  look  out  of  their  eyes 


—  t 


few  others  to 
it-painting  had 
jk  of  patrons, 
.  So  choosing 
)mpanionB  that 
all  diligence  to 

last,  she   took 
king   timidly  if 
iaa  Leslie   took 
■  usually   sober 
ambitious  as  to 
,   unrolling   the 
looked  her  ex- 
im  for   surprise 
rds  of  commen- 
er  teacher, 
le  asked. 
r  likenesses    for 

jrou  the  soul"  you 
lene  Grant  will 
[lat, —  it   flatters 

ve  with  them.  I 
lut  of   their  ey^ 


PORTRAIT-PA  INTISQ. 


29fi 
soul, 


than  they  really  have.    Perhaps  I  paint   the 
as  it  might  be  if  they  were  always  good." 

"Why,  Mildred,  surely  you   don't   try   to   pamt 

the  soul." 

"Yes,  that  is  why  I  like  human  beings'  por- 
traits better  than  those  of  cows  and  other  animals; 
besides,  I  see  very  Uttle  of  animals,  —  only  dogs 
and  horses  on  the  street  — and  one  don't  care  for 
only  bones  and  hair." 

"What  strange  thoughts  you  have,  Mildred  1*' 
Then,  after  a  pause,  she  added:  "You  should  be 
a  famous  painter  some  day  if  you  make  up  your 
mind  to  hard  work.  I  could  not  do  anything 
equal  to  that,  if  I  tried  for  years." 

"Oh,  Miss  Leslie!"  Mildred  gave  her  teacher 
a   look   of  pained   surprise,   and   then   burst   into 

tears. 

"Why  do  you  cry,  my  dear  child?"  she  asked, 
stroking  back   the   clinging,  soft  brown  hair  from 

the  brow. 

With  an  effort  Mildred  dried  her  tears,  and 
then  said  humbly:  "It  frightens  me  to  think  I 
might  be  famous ;  and  then  it  hurt  me  to  hear  you 
say  that." 

"Say  what?" 


i  i  I 


"\ 


296 


MILDRED  KESra  BERO. 


♦'  That  you  could  not  paint  a  better  picture  than 
that.    I  love  you." 

"But  it  need  not  grieve  us  to  be  more  higlily 
gifted  than  those  we  love.  If  God  has  given  you 
unusual  powers  and  faculties  of  the  mind  that 
may  amount  to  genius,  think  how  much  you  can 
do  for  Him,  —  how  many  more  you  can  make 
happy." 

"That  was  why  I  painted  this  picture.  I 
wanted  to  get  some  money  for  Thanksgiving." 

"  I  believe  I  can  gratify  your  wish.  Magdelene's 
mother  will  be  very  glad  to  pay  for  this  pic- 
ture." 

"Won't  I  take  lessons  fi-om  you  any  more?" 
"Ah!  I  understand  your  teai-s  now.    You  must 
take   lessons  a  long   time   yet.    Even  the    noblest 
genius  is  improved  by  culture." 

"I  am  glad,  because  to  be  with  you  reconciles 
me  to  the  other  things  I  have  here. 

"  Never  mind  the  other  things.  If  you  perse- 
vere, you  can  make  your  own  tei-ms  of  friendship 
by-and-by  with  the  best  of  them." 

"I  shall  not  want  to  choose  my  friends  here, 
no  matter  what  happens,"  she  said,  with  a  gesture 
that  betrayed  a  good  deal  of  heai-tsickness. 


■■~---'\ 


ter  picture  than 

be  more  highly 

haa  given  you 

the   mind    that 

much  you   can 

yrou    can    make 

6b    picture.      I 
aksgiving/* 
h.     Magdelene's 
y   for    thitJ    pio- 

any  more?" 
low.    You  must 
iren  the    noblest 

i  you   reconciles 

B." 

.  If  you  perse- 
a»  of    friendship 

my  friends  here, 
,  with  a  gesture 
sickness. 


PORTRAIT-PAISTINO.  297 

"When  one  has  foitune's  wheel  under  them, 
they  have  no  trouble  t'  choose  friends.  But  to 
retum  fi-om  that  rosy  future  and  to  the  likeness, 
as  you  call  it, -I  will  take  it  to  Mi>».  Gmnt  this 
evening,  and  set  my  own  price." 

"Last  year,  when  Douglass  Everett  was  here 
and  made  the  girls  kind  to  me,  I  painted  some  of 
them,  and  Beth  Lee's  father  gave  me  a  dollar 
for  here.  Do  you  think  that  w»»s  too  high  a 
price  for  me  to  take?  I  let  the  othei-s  give  wliat 
they  liked.  Connie  De  Smythe  only  gave  me  ten 
cents  for  here.  She  said  that  was  more  tlian  the 
paper  and  paints  cost,  but  she  would  not  be  very 
particular  about  a  few  cents." 

"Your  conscience  need  not  be  troubled  about 
the  pay  you  received.  I  shall  take  more  than  a  dol- 
lar for  this,  or  else  bring  it  back  to    yon." 

"But  it  cost  me  less  than  ten  cents,'  ildi-ed 
said,  anxiously.  She  would  much  prefer  the  dollar 
to  having  tlie  picture  back  on  her  liands. 

"I  will  make  it  all  right,  and  you  shall  liave 
more  than  the  dollar." 

All  that  day,  in  intei-vals  of  leisui-e,  Mildi-ed 
was  adding  up  small  sums  in  arithmetic  that 
could   not  be   satisfactorily   balanced   with   a  less 


—  1 


29« 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


Bum  than  two  dollai-8.  With  that  she  could  make 
a  fairly  good  Thanksgiving  for  tlie  limited  num- 
ber she  had  decided  upon. 


-1 


he  could  moke 
limited   nuin- 


CHAPTER   XXV. 


PROFPERED   FRIENDSHIP. 

'he   keen   motliei^love  quickly  detected  the 
brightened    expi-ession    on    Mildred's  face 
tliat  evening,  and    hoped    her    school-life 
had  suddenly  become  more  cheerful.     With  a  good 
deal   of  self-resti-aint  Mildred   forbore    to    mention 
what    had    taken    place    until    she    could  lay  the 
piX)of»  of  her  genius  before  her  mother's  eyes.     Her 
(li-eams    were    troubled    that    night.    Part   of    the 
the  time  she  was  busily  engaged  on  the  portraits 
of    dusky    faces,  —  her    missionaiy  chai-ges,  —  and 
again  her  whole  life  was  absorbed  in  the  labor  of 
becoming  famous.     She  awoke   with  the  uncertain 
and  tantalizing   feeling  of  one   who  has  a  duality 
of  cai-eera.     As  she  walked  along  the  street  on  her 


U'l 


--1 


800  MILDRSD   KENT'S    HERO. 

way  to  school,  she  was  startled  for  the  moment  when 
Magdalene  Grant  stepped  to  her  side  and  bade  her  a 
very  cordial  good-moming.  Mildred  i-esponded  with 
the  coldness  that  a  surprise  often  causes ;  but  Magda- 
lene, who  had  stood  up  for  her  long  ago,  was  not  to 
be  repulsed ;  for  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  take 
charge  of  the  girl  as  Douglass  Everett  had  done. 

"  How  did  you  come  to  paint  that  lovely  picture  of 
me?"  she  asked  abruptly.  MUdred  flushed  un- 
easUy,  and  was  so  tardy  in  answering  that  Mag- 
dalene asked  another  question.  "Was  it  because 
you  like  me  better  than  any  of  the  others?  But, 
really,  you  can't  care  much  for  any  of  us." 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  Mildred  responded  with  charming 
frankness,  "  and  none  of  you  care  for  me." 

Magdalene  winced  and  looked  annoyed ;  but  after 
a  pause  she  said :  "  I  am  going  to  be  friendly  with 
you  after  this.  I  had  no  idea  you  were  such  a 
genius  as  Miss  Leslie  says  you  are." 

"I  do  not  know  that  I  care  to  have  your  friend- 
ship if  that  is  your  only  reason  for  giving  it  to  me. 
If  I  were  as  slow  to  learn  as  Connie  De  Smythe, 
I  should  like  to  have  folks  friendly  with  me  just  as 
much  as  I  do  now.  Maybe  stupid  people  feel  worse 
about    such    thiugs    than    those    who    have    good 


-1 


e  moment  when 
i  and  bade  tier  a 

i-esponded  with 
1868 ;  but  Magda- 

ago,  was  not  to 
her  mind  to  take 
tt  had  done, 
lovely  picture  of 
ed  flushed  un- 
ering  that  Mag- 
Was  it  because 
B  others?  But, 
.f  us." 

d  with  charming 
r  me." 
loyed;  but  after 

be  friendly  with 
ou   were  such  a 

lave  your  friend- 
r  giving  it  to  me. 
anie  De  Smythe, 
with  me  just  as 
people  feel  worse 
who    have    good 


PROfFKRED  FRIRNDBHIP.  Wl 

thoughts  of  their  own."  Mildi-ed  spoke  with  such 
calm  dignity  that  Magdalene  suddenly  realized 
how  cruel  they  had  all  been,  as  well  as  blindly 
stupid,   to   treat  one  suiierior  to  them  all  in  such 

a  way. 

"  I  believe  we  have  acted  like  a  crowd  of  young 
savages.     I  never  really  thought  of  it  before." 

.»Not  so  badly  as  that.  Savages  would  have 
eaten  me  long  ago;  but  people  do  not  eat  each 
other  here,  since  it  is  contrary  to  law,  and  I  KupiK«e 
they  do  not  have  a  relish  for  such  food,"  Mildred  con- 
tinued in  her  odd,  reflective  way,  as  if,  after  all,  her 
schoolmates  were  not  much  improvement  on  can- 
nibals. ,  .      V  *. 

"Well,  you  must  recollect  our  school  is  the  most 
exclusive  in  this  whole  city.  It  in  very  expensive. 
I  have  heard  they  planned  it  so  t«  keep  common 
children  from  coming.  I  do  not  see  how  you  hap- 
pened  to  come  here." 

uDo  you  suppose  God  calls  some  of  us  common 
and  others  uncommon?"  Mildred  asked  solemnly. 

"I  never  hear  anyone  speak  about  Him  out  of 
(jhurch,  and  where  we  attend  is  very  high-toned.  The 
minister  speaks  mostly  about  art  and  poetry  and 
philosophy,  you  know." 


il: 


^^^SB^F""™^' 


-A 


808 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


"I  did  1  ot  know  anything  about  it;  but  art  and 
philosophy  are  veiy  low  compared  to  God;  for 
He  thought  them  all  first.  Besides,  He  reckons 
purity  and  holiness  higher  than  any  other  created 

thing." 

"Why,  I  believe  you  could  preach.  You  must 
be  smart  at  everything." 

"  I  am  getting  tired  of  hearing  about  smartness. 
Let  us  talk  of  something  else.  Are  you  going  to 
keep  my  picture?" 

"  Keep  it !  I  should  say  we  are  going  to. 
Mother    gave   Miss   Leslie    what  she  asked  for  it, 

five   doUai-s;    but     he  said    afterwards    it    was 

worth  three  times  that  much."  Magdalene  paused 
abruptly.  She  recollected  too  late  that  her  con- 
fession was  ill-timed. 

Mildred  stood  quite  still,  swinging  her  satchel 
nervously,  her  face  working  with  strong   emotion. 

"Do  you  think  five  dollars  not  enough?"  Magdsr 
lene  asked  uneasily. 

"No.  I  only  expected  to  get  a  dollar.  I  be- 
lieve I  shall  have  two  Thanksgiving  days,  —  to^iay 
and  the  real  one." 

"Are  you  so  very  fond  of   money?" 

"  Yes,  when  I  earn  it  myself.  I  can  help  others 
then." 


'-1 


J^iESi, 


fl-  ^i  .  .i-^^i^^^f^'^  •'  ■?'5?ywfe^|i53^}3 


;  it ;  but  art  and 
i  to  God;  for 
les,  He  reckons 
ly  other  created 

ich.      You  must 

about  smartness, 
jre  you  going  to 

are  going  to. 
he  asked  for  it, 
^rwards  it  was 
[agdalene  paused 
e  that  her  con- 
ning her  satchel 
strong  emotion, 
lough?"   Magda- 

a  dollar.     I  be- 
Lg  days,  —  to-day 

ley?" 

I  can  help  others 


PROFFERED  FRJENDSBIP. 

Magdalene  was  silent;  but  she  began  b'^^ter  t» 
underatand    why    the     Everette    were    so  fond  of 

Mildred. 

"I  wish  you  would  be  friendly  with  mc.  It  is 
true  I  have  neglected  you  ;  but  I  am  older,  and 
the  larger  girls  as  a  rule  pay  scant  attention  to 
those  who  are   two   or  three    years   younger  than 

themselves." 

«If  you  wish,  we  can  be  friends,"  Mildred  said 
rather  indifferently,  and  then  added  after  a 
pause,  "I  think  very  few  people  have  enough  of 
the  material  that  friendship  is  made  out  of  in  their 
composition  to  make  them  genuine  friends  all  their 
life  through.  At  least  our  schoolmates  cannot  have 
it,  for  I  hear  them  quarreling  after  they  have 
been  such  fast  friends  for  a  while.  I  do  not  care 
to  make  any  bargains  for  such  friendships." 

"  Well,  I  expected  you  would  be  deUghted  at 
my  offer;  but  you  make  me  feel  that  it  is  you 
who  confer  the  favor,  not  1." 

"  I  have  found  out  that  even  if  one  is  lonely 
sometimes,  one  has  less  worry  and  heartache  than 
when  there  is  a  crowd  to  please.  Books  and  my 
own  thoughts  make  me  better  content  than  people 
as  a  rule.    But  you  asked  me  to  be  your  friend; 


t.-;---«r.:i,i':'^'.'T'JS'"--r*'H.-' 


304 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


you  must  have  wanted  me,  or  you  would  not  have 
made  the  request." 

"I  had  no  idea  any  young  girl  could  be  so  in- 
dependent. I  \mh  I  had  been  treated  like  you,— 
maybe  I  would  have  been  very  clever  then." 

» It  is  like  medicine,  —  hai-d  to  take  ;  but  if 
you  can  be  patient,  afterwards  you  feel  stronger." 
When  they  reached  the  ohool-yard  gate,  Mag- 
dalene paused  and  said  very  kindly:  "My  mother 
wishes  you  to  come  home  with  me  some  evening 
soon;  she  is  anxious  to  know  you." 

Mildred  murmured  her  thanks  but  did  not  make 
any  promise.  She  was  getting  confused  at  such  a 
down-pour  of  friendship. 

They  entered  the  school-room  together ;  Magda- 
lene still  chatting  in  a  very  cordial  way  with  Mil- 
dred,—a  cireumstance  that  was  a  matter  of  sur- 
prise to  their  schoolfellows. 

At  recess  Miss  Leslie  brought  Mildred  the 
money,  — a  sum  so  large  that  the  poor  giri  had 
little  poace  of  mind  for  the  remainder  of  the  day, 
for  fear  it  might  slip  away  from  her  in  some  un- 
guarded moment  The  skies  seemed  higher  and 
bluer,  the  dusty,  faded  green  of  the  leaves  on  the 
trees  in  the  Park  and  gai-dens  as  beautiful  as  when 


-^  i 


would  not  have 

could  be  so  in- 
ited  like  you, — 
ver  then." 
x>  take  ;  but  if 
I  feel  stronger." 
yard  gate,  Mag- 
y:  "My  mother 
e   some   evening 

»ut  did  not  make 
nfused  at  such  a 

»gether;  Magda- 
&1  way  with  Mil- 
a  matter'   of  sur- 

ht  Mildred  the 
le  poor  girl  had 
inder  of  the  day, 
her  in  some  un- 
Bmed  higher  and 
the  leaves  on  the 
beautiful  as  when 


PROFFERED  FRIESDBHIP.  806 

the  soft  June  sunshine  glistened  on  them  first; 
while  she  could  not  find  it  easy  to  pity  even  the 
raggedest  creature  on  the  street,  since  they  had 
a  share  in  a  world  where  there  is  so  much  to 
encourage  and  make  glad.  She  opened  the  kitchen 
door  on  reaching  home  and  walked  all  the  way 
through  the  house  to  the  little  parlour  that  was 
30  rarely  used.  It  was  the  one  room  that  never 
looked  really  homelike.  Her  mother  was  in  there 
with  some  visitor,  she  concluded,  of  more  than 
ordinary  excellence,  since  Mr.  Felton,  as  well  as 
their  own  beloved- paster,  Doctor  Stornaway,  was 
always  ushered  into  the  living-room,  where  the 
mother's  work  was  convenient. 

She  paused  at  the  door,  which  stood    slightly 
ajar,  and  listened  to  the   voices.     Her  heart  gave 
a  mad  surge,  for  Mra.   Everett  was  speaking  her 
own   name.     Surely,  she    thought,  here    was    too 
much  joy  to  be  crowded  into  one  brief  day.    But 
then  it  would  be  green    in   memory,  perhaps,  for 
a    good  many  ages,  she  reflected,  while  she  stood 
quite  still  a  moment  to  let  the  waves    of    glad- 
ness   enfold    her    sQently.     In    a    cuiioud,  intro- 
spective  fashion  she  held  a  little  int«nial    consul- 
tation  with  thought  and  fancy,  as    to   the  meas- 


'II 


irM- 


--i 


806  MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

lire  of  her  happiness,  and  then  with  a  radiant 
face,  but  otherwise  quite  calm,  she  walked  into 
the  room,  and  going  directly  to  Mrs.  Everett,  her 
whole  soul  shining  in  her  eyes,  with  an  impulse 
too  strong  to  be  easily  conti-oUed  she  put  her 
aiTOS  ai-ound  her  friend  and  kissed  her  on  the 
cheek  — a  caress  that  the  fair  lady  returned  on 
the   willing  lips  of  her  girl-friend. 

"I  could  not  help  it,  mamma,"  she  said,  at 
sight  of  the  sui-prised  look  in  her  mother's  face. 
"Mrs.  Everett  would  foi-give  me  if  she  knew  how 
glad   I  was  to  see  her." 

"You  funny  child,  you  must  always  kiss  me. 
I  have  not  received  such  a  welcoming  look  for  a  good 
many  yeara,  —  never  since  — "  She  stopped  abrupt- 
ly, Avhile  the  tears  spmng  suddenly  to  her  eyes. 
Afterwai-ds,  talking  over  the  visit  wth  her  mother, 
Mildred  said:  "It  was  her  husband  she  meant, 
don't  you  think?" 

With  teare  in  her  own  eyes  the  mother  replied: 
"It  was  her  husband." 

Mildred  remained  standing  beside  Mre.  Everett, 
her  hand  laid  carelessly  on  a  fold  of  her  di-ess 
while  she  answered  her  questioiis. 

"Are  you  getting  on  well  at  school?  and  Doug- 


--1 


\0. 

ivith  a  radiant 
le  walked  into 
Irs.  Everett,  her 
rith  an  impulse 
d  she  put  her 
sd  her  on  the 
dy  returned    on 

,"  she  said,  at 
t  mother's  face. 
£  she  knew  how 

tlways  kiss  me. 
g  look  for  a  good 
e  stopped  abrupt- 
aly  to  her  eyes, 
with  her  mother, 
and    she    meant, 

I  mother  replied: 

ie   Mre.   Everett, 
)ld    of    her   di-ess 

chool?  and  Doug- 


nOrFERED  FRIENDSHIP. 

lass   bade  me  ask    you    if   your    schoolmates     are 

friendly?" 

"I  miss  him  very  much,"  she  said  evasively,  a 
hot  flush  sweeping  over  her  neck   and  brow. 

"  Ah,  I  understand.  Well,  never  mind,  you  will 
have  fewer  interruptions  with  your  lessons;  and 
now  that  I  am  at  home  again  and  so  lonely 
without  my  boy,  you  must  come  very  often  t» 
cheer  me,  and  keep  from  getting  overworked  your- 
self. Your  mamma  has  consented  to  let  me  have 
you  over  Sunday.  When  those  girls  see  you  with 
me  in  church,  they  may  change  their  tactics." 

*•  I   do  not  mind   them   so  much  as  I  used  to ; 
but  am  I   really   to    go    to    Gi-assmere   again?     I 
bade  it  a  last  good-bye   when   I   was   there." 
"Why  did  you  do  that?" 

♦*I  thought  when  your  son  had  left  school  you 
would  not  trouble  yourself  with  me  any  more.  I 
could  not  expect  it,  for  you  had  been  so  kind." 

"Even  so,  was  that  any  reason  my  kindness 
should  cease?  I  am  afraid  you  have  a  low  esti- 
mation of  my  friendship.  I  hope  to  hold  you  as 
my  friend  while  I  live." 

Mildred  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  make  as- 
surance of  her  undying  regard;  it  seemed  a  waste 


SaMt*^'.:. 


-1 


308 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


of  words  to  tell  Mrs.    Everett  she    should  always 
love  her, — the  fact  was  self-evident. 

"  Then  it  is  settled,  you  are  to  come  on  Friday 
evening  and  remain  until  Monday  morning.  Are  you 
willing  to  give   yourself   to  me   for  that  length  of* 

time?" 

"If    mamma  is  willing,  I  will   go    with  all   my 

heart." 

"She  assured  me  that  she  is  willing;  and  now 
that  my  errand  has  been  so  satisfactorily  fulfilled, 
I  will  go,  for  I  see  the  carriage  has  returned." 

Mildred  accompanied  her  to  the  street  and  then 
'Watched   the  carriage   out   of   sight.    She  entered 
the  house  with  a  face   unusually  happy, — for   its 
expression  of  late  had   been  a  trifle   melancholy, — 
and  going  to   the   kitchen,  where   preparations   for 
tea  were  commencing,  she    took  out   her  five   dol- 
lars  and   told   the   pleasant   news.     "It  is  almost 
too   much    for   one  day,    isn't    it    mamma?"  she 
remarked  sedately,  when   they  had  quieted  down 
from    the  firet  thrill  of  surprise   and  joy.     "But 
then  it  is  mostly  the  way.     If  we  have  troubles, 
they  come  in  heaps  and  nearly  crush  us ;  and  then 
when  the  good  things  begin   to   come,   they   pour 
down  on  us  so  thick  we  nearly  lose  our  breath." 


PROFFERED  FRIESDBBIP. 


809 


should   always 

* 

ome  on  Friday 
ming.   Are  you 
that  length  of* 

»    with  all    my 

lling;  and  now 
storily  fulfilled, 
}  retvimed." 
itreet  and  then 
fc.  She  entered 
lappy, — for   its 

melancholy, — 
)reparation8  for 
t   her  five   dol- 

*'It  is  almost 
mamma  ?  "  she 
[  quieted  down 
ind  joy.  "But 
I  have  troubles, 
ih  us ;  and  then 
)me,  they  pour 
le  our  breath." 


"I  believe  events  do  occur  in  some  such  way, 
but  I  do  not  think  I  have  thought  of  it  be- 
fore." 

"I  did  not  expect  to  see  Mrs.  Everett  again. 
It  is  so  long  since  she  took  any  notice  of  us, 
I  had  been  making  up  my  mind  that  our  happiness 
had  all  come  to  an  end.* 

"Mra.  Everett  explained  why  she  had  not  been 
here.  She  was  at  Saratoga  with  Doughws  before 
he  went  to  college,  and  since  then  she  has  been 
traveUng  with  friends.  She  seems  to  have  had 
a  charming  autumn.  The  worid  has  strange  ex- 
tremes. I  kept  thinking  of  my  mission-class  and 
their  overworked  mothers,  while  she  talked." 

"Don't  you  think  God  will  give  poor  people 
a  better  chance  to  improve  their  condition  in  the  next 
world?  If  we  could  see  each  other's  souls  I  am 
almost  sure  some  would  be  all  cramped  and  scarred 
with  the  trials  and  crosses  they  have  had.  Some- 
times, in  school  with  the  others,  I  like  to  think 
we  shall  have  our  chance  there,  and  what  we  may 
be  like  a  thousand  years  hence."  She  stopped 
abruptly,  remembering  she  had  said  too  much ;  for 
she  did  not  wish  her  mother's  heart  pained  with 
the  knowledge  of  her  lonely  life. 


-1 


810 


MILDRED  KENT'B  BERO. 


"  Why  have  you  never  tol4  me  how  your  sohool- 
mates  have  boycotted  you?" 

"What  is  boycotted,  mamma?  I  have  seen 
the  word,  but  do  not  really  know  what  the  mean- 
ing is.  I  looked  in  the  dictionary,  but  it  was  not 
there." 

"That  is  answering  my  question  by  asking  an- 
other." 

"It  would  do  no  good  to  tell  you,  and  only 
make  you  sorry.  Besides,  I  think  it  may  have 
been  the  best  for  me.  Their  mothers  did  not 
have  them  well  trained  at  home.  I  expect  they 
were  so  taken  up  with  parties  and  society,  they 
hadn't  time;  anyway,  they  are  only  about  half -fin- 
ished in  the  way  of  being  friends.  I  don't  think 
the  best  of  them  hold  longer  than  a  month.  It 
would  not  be  worth  my  while  to  get  to  like  some 
of  them  very  much  for  so  short  a  time.  Do  you 
think  it  would?" 

"A  month  is  quite  a  period  in  a  young  girl's 
life.  I  would  be  very  glad  for  you  to  have  the 
privilege  of  a  girl  friend  for  even  that  short 
period." 

"Well,  I  promised  Magdalene  Grant  to^y,  but 
I  am  not  very  anxious  for  her  to  Kold  to  the  bar- 


-1 


9w  your  sohool- 

I  have  seen 
rha.t  the  mean- 
but  it  was  not 

by  asking  an- 

you,  and  only 
Ic  it  may  have 
)thers  did  not 
I  expect  they 
id  society,  they 
r  about  half-fin- 

I  don't  think 
,n  a  month.  It 
et  to  like  some 

time.    Do  you 

a  young  girl's 
)u  to  have  the 
ven    that   short 

rant  to-day,  but 
hold  to  the  bar- 


PROFFERBD  FRIENDBHIP. 

gain;  for  it  is  not  really  me  she  wants  to  be 
friends  with,  but  the  Mildred  Kent  that  may  be  a 
genius.  I  am  almost  sorry  I  can  see  so  far  into 
people's  motives." 

She  spoke  sorrowfully,  as  if  average  human  beings 
were  a  moral  faUure.    The  conversation  soon  drifted 
into  happier  channels;  for  there    were    the  plans 
to  be  made  for  Thanksgiving  Day.    She  decided 
on  the  gifts  to  be  purchased  and  the  guests  to  be 
invited.    This  five   dollars  she  called  second-fruits. 
Such  were  certainly  not  mentioned  m  the  Mosaic 
ritual;  but  Mildred's    ideas    were    original    about 
things  generally,  so  that  she  was  able  to  rob  her 
daily   life   of  its  common-place  aspect  by  the  way 
she  classified  its   various   meanings.    A  very  gen- 
erous dinner  was  provided,  Mildred  purchasing  the 
turkey  bereelf,  as  well  as  all  the  other  requisites  for 
the    banquet.    Her   mother,  with    a    wisdom  that 
foreshadowed  future  years,  permitted  her  to  do  this, 
hoping  to  have  her  daughter  grow  to  be  a  prac- 
tical woman,  capable  of  fulfilling  discreetly  all  the 
obUgations  ot  womanhood.    Jack  Carver  and  Tom- 
my Tuffts,  with  two  others  of  the  most  forsaken 
ones  in  the  school,  were  there,  while  Mildred  had 
insisted  on  providing  each  of  them  with  a  gift  from 


812 


MtLDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


her  own  money.  When  all  was  provided  there  was 
not  a  cent  left  for  herself;  but  she  drew  comfort 
from  the  hope  that  other  poitraits  might  find  pur- 
chasers. Tommy  Tuffts  squinted  at  the  various  ap- 
pointments with  such  hearty  approval  and  enjoyed 
the  dinner  with  such  evident  satisfaction,  one 
could  not  look  at  him  without  a  corresponding 
feeling  of  comfort,  such  as  steals  over  the  least 
benevolent  at  sight  of  animal  enjoyment  among 
the  lower  ordera  of  creation.  And  then  he  listened 
with  such  a  pathetic  look  in  the  poor,  defective 
eyes,  while  Mildred  played  some  of  her  favorite 
airs.  An  occasional  sigh,  pai-t  of  content  at  his  con- 
genial surroundings,  and  part  of  regret  that  it  must 
so  soon  be  exchanged  for  his  smoky,  ill-conditioned 
abode,  escaped  him ;  but  with  the  glad  hopefulness 
of  youth  he  pictured  for  himself  just*  such  a 
dwelling-place  with  another  such  piece  of  woman- 
hood as  Mildred  promised  to  become,  installed  as 
its  misti«S8.  Jack  Carver,  as  he  sat  in  his  favorite 
arm-chair  and  watched  the  firelight  dance  along 
the  dusky  pictures  and  gleam  on  the  bright  frames, 
and  listened  to  the  music,  meanwhile  thinking  over 
the  delicious  repast  he  had  just  swallowed,  con- 
cluded, taking  it  all  in  all,   that  this  was  about 


PROFFERED  FRIENDSHIP. 


818 


vided  there  was 
B  drew  comfort 
night  find  pur^ 

the  variouH  ajv 
al  and  enjoyed 
itisfaction,  one 
I   corresponding 

over  the  least 
oyment  among 
hen  he  listened 
poor,  defective 
of  her  favorite 
itent  at  his  con- 
;ret  that  it  must 
r,  ill-conditioned 
[lad  hopefulness 
f  just*  such  a 
aece  of  woman- 
ae,  installed  as 
^t  in  his  favorite 
it  dance  along 
le  blight  frames, 
le  thinking  over 
swallowed,  con- 
this  was  about 


the  very  best   day   of    his    life  —  not   even     that 
long  to  be  remembered   visit   to    Grassmere   quite 
equalling    it     in    solid    comfort.      Mildred     won- 
dered  at  the  rare  generosity  of  Mrs.  Everett  shar- 
ing   the  beauties  of  her  home   with    the    humble 
members  of  her  mission-school,  but  was  not  con- 
Bcious  that  she  was  herself  worthy  of  equal  praise, 
when,-  with  her  slim  earnings,  she  gave  such  content 
to  others  who  helped  to  swell  the  Thanksgiving  joy 
that    welled  up  that  day  from  a  million    hearts. 
Where    there    exists    the    desire    to    make   others 
happy,  God  seldom  withholds  the  weans. 


.'  i-Ji.ifts'^av-^ftf^'^'^- 


-M 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


ORADITATINO   HONORS. 

VryHOSE  Ave  years,  very  important  at  that 
^  I  (_  formative  period  in  Mildred's  life,  wore 
"^  away,  leaving  her  no  longer  the  child- 
hearted  girl  we  found  her  when  we  met  her  first 
on  the  play-ground  of  the  Park  Avenue  School. 
They  had  been  ><Jiy  busy  years.  Like  a  care- 
ful husbandman,  who  utilizes  every  hour  of  the 
precious  seed-time,  she  had  endeavored  to  make 
the  best  of  her  opportunities,  and  with  such  suc- 
cess that  she  was  able  to  graduate  with  highest 
honors.  She  had  taken  in  addition  a  course  in 
drawing  and  painting.  Miss  Leslie  had  long  since 
given  place  to  a  more  competent  teacher,  but  she 
still  took  a  deep  interest  in   the   girl-artist,  whom 


-M 


4m 


A. 

iportant   at   that 

ired's   life,  wore 

:)nger   the   child- 

^e  met  her  first 

Avenue  School. 

Like    a    care- 

Biy  hour  of  the 

aavored  to  make 

I  with  such  suc- 

ate  with   highest 

ion    a   course   in 

e  had  long  since 

teacher,   but   she 

girl-artist,  whom 


OnSDUATINO  HONORS. 

she  regarded  as  the  one   genius   among    the   many 
to  whom  she  had  endeavore*!  to  open    the    temple 
of  art.     MUdred  had  grown  to  a  beautiful  woman- 
hood during  those  years,  mind  and   body  alike  de- 
veloping nobly.      Her  childlike  delicacy  and  timid- 
ity liad  given  place  to   a   robustness    of   mind  and 
body  that  argued  well  for  the   purity  and  wisdom 
of  her  training;   hence  she  possessed  the  most  per- 
fect human  combination  —  a  well-developed    mind 
in  a  healthy  body.     With  wide,  fearless    gaze    she 
faced  her  future  — the   future  of  a  working-wom- 
an, with  not  her  own  bread  alone  to  win,  but  the 
brother   and  sister   to   educate.     Her   mother,   she 
decided,  must  be   relieved   of   tliat   burden.      Paul 
had  grown  to  be  a  bright  lad,  with  a  very  healthy 
appetite  for  food,  both  mental  and   physical.     The 
missionary  drep;o  that   Mildred   used   to   speculate 
over  so  much  in  those  early  years  had  not  faded; 
but  the  oppoitunities  and  possibilities  of    a  higher 
civilization  had  for  her  active  intellect  an  irresistible 
charm.     To  go  away  from    these,  buiying  fai-   out 
of  sight  her  hopes  of   one   day  painting   a  picture 
that  might  thrill  other  hearts  as  her  own  had  been 
by  a  few  she  had  looked  at,    seemed  at  times  the 
greatest  sacrifice  of   all.     A  daily  conflict  was  thus 


-V 


816 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


earned  on  in  her  heart,  that  often  made  her  ob- 
livious to  annoyances  that  would  have  wounded 
or  embittered  a  less  generous  and  noble  spirit.  With 
a  high  sense  of  duty,  as  ,.ell  as  honor  in  regai-d 
to  promises  made  to  God,  which  she  held  fully  as 
binding  as  if  made  to  a  fellow-creature,  she  was 
forced  to  walk  uncertainly  as  to  the  ordering  of 
her  future  years.  Distinct  as  any  past  recollection 
was  that  act  of  self-consecration  that  wintry  Sab- 
bath day  in  the  long  ago,  when  she  gave  herself 
to  the  One  who  died  for  her;  and  wit  something 
of  the  self-abnegation  which  W3  see  gleaming  through 
the  darkness  of  past  ages  through  the  few  elect 
souls  who  were  in  the  world,  but  not  of  it,  she 
could  think  of  no  acceptable  offering  but  what 
would  mean  utter  immolation  of  all  her  ideals  of 
culture  and  development.  The  one  way  for  ac- 
ceptable service  seemed  to  be  mission  work  in  the 
remotest  spaces  of  heathendom.  Wlule  teachers 
and  classmates  regarded  her  as  absorbed  rather  sel- 
fishly in  her  own  thoughts  and  abstractions,  she 
was  only  wearily  going  over  and  over  the  ques- 
tion as  to  what  was  really  duty.  But  at  last 
peace  came,  as  it  will  eventually  come  to  every 
sincere  soul  who  yields  the  will  to  God.     Like  a 


I   1 


--1 


ERO. 

3n   made   her   ob- 
d    have  wounded 
loble  spirit.    With 
honor   in    regai-d 
she  held  fully  as 
creature,    she  was 
)   the  ordering  of 
T  past  recollection 
that  wintry  Sab- 
she  gave  herself 
id  wit.     something 
)  gleaming  through 
fh    the  few  elect 
t    not    of    it,  she 
Efering    but    what 
all  her  ideals  of 
one  way  for   ac- 
ission  work  in  the 
Wliile    teachers 
bsorbed  rather  sel- 
abstractions,  she 
id  over  the  ques- 
ty.      But  at   last 
y  come   to    every 
to  God.    Like  a 


GRADUATINO  HONORS.  817 

revelation  the  thought  came:  "What  God  wants 
me  to  do  I  will  accept  as  my  work,  and  tnist 
Him  implicitly  to  show  me  what  that  work  is." 
After  this  she  was  enabled  generally  to  bitnish  all 
perplexity;  but  sometimes  in  moments  of  depres- 
sion, the  old,  recurring  question  relocated  itself 
with  wearying  obstinacy. 

It  was  not  a  matter  for   surprise    with    teachers 
or  school-mates  that,  after  her  close  application  to 
study,  Mildred   should  graduate  with    much  more 
than   average   honora ;  but    what    did    cause   very 
marked    astonishment    was    the    essay    she    read. 
They  certainly  expected  something  more  than  com- 
mon  from  her,  since  composition-writing  had  been 
one  of    the    easiest   of    her    school    exercises,   but 
were    certainly    quite    unprepared    for    what    she 
gave  them.     At  the  closing  exercises  of  the  school, 
when  the  class  of   pupils   who  had  completed  their 
studies  and  were  to    graduate   read    their    essays, 
the  audience  listened  with  grave   sui-piise   rs   the 
tall,  but  exceedingly  youthful  giri  read    the    sen 
tences    falling  calmly    from  her  lips.     It    waa    no 
common  school-girl's  composition,  the  y'nt  product 
of  pupil  and  teacher;   Mildi-ed    had    quite   finnly 
insisted  on    doing    her    work    unaided.     As    they 


"""'Wm: 


818 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


listened,  her    teacher    concluded   there  was    little 
chance  for  improveiient  on  their  part.      A  fresh 
touch  of  genius  would  be  required  ere  they  could 
produce  anything  so  original  and  masterly  as  what 
this    quiet,   self-contained  girl   liad    thought    out, 
mainly  while  watching  the  stars  move  noiselessly 
on  their  ceaseless  journey  to  the  west.     In  these 
lonely  vigils  of  years,  the  mind,  to  such  on  nu- 
usual  extent  had  she  been   thrown  on  her  own  re- 
sources   for   companionship,    had    matured  with  a 
rapidity  uncommon  in    this    age    of   frivolity  and 
diffuseness.      When    she    had    finished,  and    with 
&ce  paler  than  usual  took  her  place  again  among 
the  graduates  who  encircled  the.platfoj-m,   a  hush 
not  usual  on  such  occasions  held  the  large  assem- 
Wy.     A  suspicion  that  such  a  literary  effort  was 
beyond  the  creative  power  of  that  slim  pirl,  with 
rose-leaf  cheek  and  innocent  bi-ow,  kept  some  si- 
lent ;   amazement  at  the  gifted,  silent  young  crea- 
ture who  had  come    and    gone    with    such    still 
meekness   through    all    these    years,  withheld  pro- 
fessors and  pupils  for  a  time  from  the  burst  of  ap- 
plause that  late,  but  all  the   more   welcome,  fell 
with  such  blessed  consolation  on  the  girl's  fright- 
ened heart.    Was    it    then    a    failui-e,  this   group- 


mm 


'.RO. 

there  was     little 
■  part.      A   fresh 
jd  ere  they  could 
masterly  as  what 
id    thought    out, 
move  noiselessly 
I   west.     In  these 
1,  to  such  Oft  nu- 
n   on  her  own  re- 
matured  with  a 
of   frivolity  and 
nished,   and    with 
ilace   again  among 
■platform,   a  hush 
1  the  large  assem- 
iterary  effort  was 
lat  slim  firl,  Avith 
>'W,  kept  some  si- 
silent  young  crea- 
with    such    still 
jars,  withheld  pro- 
m  the  burst  of  ap- 
iiore   welcome,  fell 
>n  the  girl's  fright- 
failui-e,  this   group 


QRADUATINQ  BOS  ORB. 


819 


ing  of  ideas  that  had  been  swelling  in  her  brsiin 
from  childhood,  and  was  it  all  a  mistake?  she 
said  to  herself,  with  a  cold  shiver  of  desolation 
as  the  intense  stillness  continued.  But  once  it 
was  broken,  how  the  flowers  came  raining  at  her 
feet  —  rare  hot-house  blossoms  intended  for  other 
hands  than  hers.  Connie  De  Smythe,  who  sat 
nearest  her,  gave  her  a  vigorous  nudge,  saying 
with  a  good  deal  of  discontent:  "You  have 
every  flower  in  the  room,  I  believe,  except  the 
bunch  that  old  gentleman  over  there  is  holding; 
but  most  likely  he  is    deaf." 

Mildred  raised  her  drooping  eyelids  and  saw  not 
only  the  clusters  of  lovely  blossoms,  but  a  tliou- 
sand  admiring  eyes  directed  to  herself,  among  them 
her  own  mother's,  which  gave  her  most  comfort 
of  all.  The  burst  of  enthusiasm  having  expended 
itself,  the  exercises  went  calmly  on  until  the 
close,  —  too  calmly,  indeed,  for  those  who  had  to 
take  part.  After  the  exercises  were  ended  and 
the  audience  had  in  part  dispersed,  and  the  I'emain- 
der  gathered  into  friendly  group  i,  Mildred  stood 
apart  from  the  rest  and  alone.  Other  schoolmates 
had  their  hosts  of  friends  to  greet  and  congratu- 
late them  on  their  handsome   costumes,  if  nothing 


:._.^.   -M 


nMM 


820  MILDRED    KENT'S    HERO. 

else ;   but  she  lived  so  far  remote  from  the  great 
world's  ongoings,  very  few  there  knew  of  her  ex- 
istence until  that  day.     She  stood  watclung  the 
gaily-dressed  crowd,   her  eyes  wandering  from  one 
merry  group  to  another,   unconscious    of   the  fact 
that  she  was  the   center  of  atti-action  to  a  much 
greater    extent    than    any    person    present,    when, 
from    the    farther   corner   of    the   hall,  where   the 
principal  and  several  notabilities  had  been  standing, 
she  saw  Mrd.    Everett   suddenly  emerge   from   the 
group,  —  the  first  she  had  known  of  her  presence  in 
the  room,  or    indeed,    on  the  continent,  since   she 
had  been   absent   *or  some    time   with  her  son  in 
the   Old  Worid.     To   her    delight    she   saw    that 
her  friend  was  making  her  way  to  her  side. 

Her  greeting  was  characterized  by  the  old-time 
grace  and  sweetness,  and  after  a  few  woi-ds  had 
been  spoken,  she  said:  "My  dear  giil,  you  have 
made  us  all  so  proud  of  you  to^iay.  I  believe  I 
am  as  proud  of  you  as  if  you  belonged  to  me." 

«I  io  not  understand  it  at  aU,"  Mildred  said, 
with  a  look  of  bewilderment.  "My  essay  was 
just  my  own  simple  thoughts,  —  childhood's  fancies, 
a  good  many  of  them.  After  it  was  read,  for 
a  while  I  was  afiaid  it  wes  all  a  mistake  until  the 
people  were  so  kind." 


'    •  1 


\R0. 

)  from  the  great 
knew  of  her  ex- 
ad  watcliing  the 
idering  from  one 
ions  of  the  fact 
ction  to  a  much 
I    present,    when, 

hall,  where  the 
lad  been  standing, 
smerge  from  the 
of  her  presence  in 
itinent,  since   she 

with  her  son  in 
at  she  saw  that 
to  her  side. 
[  by  the  old-time 
a  few  woi-ds  had 
ar  gill,  you  have 
Hiay.  I  believe  I 
belonged  to  me." 
ill,"  Mildred  said, 

"My   essay   was 
childhood's  fancies, 

it  was    read,    for 
El  mistake  until  the 


ORADUATINO  HOSORS. 


881 


"You  should  thank  God  for  the  gifts  of  such 
thoughts.    You  are  richer  than  most  of  ud." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  to-day.  The  time 
has  seemed  very  long  while  you  were  away," 
Mildi-ed  said,  turning  the  conversation  abruptly. 

"  Yes,  we  ai-e  both  glad  to  get  back  to  Grassmere. 
Have  you  noticed  my  son  in  the  audience?" 

"I   had   not  seen  even   you  until  you  came  to 

me."  • 

"  You  would  scarcely  recognize  him  now,  he  has 
changed  so  these  last  few  years.  Mildred  swept  a 
keen  glance  over  the  various  groups  for  a  few  sec- 
onds, and  then  with  brightening  face  said:  — 

"  That  is  he,  standing  beside  a  beautiful  girl  in 
pale  blue  satin.  What  a  lovely  ci-eature  she  is!" 
Mrs.  Everett  smiled  at  the  look  of  genuine  admi- 
ration  in  the  girl's  face,  as  her  eyes  rested  rather 
on  her  son's  companion  than  himself. 

"  You  do  not  have  any  praise  for  my  boy.  Is 
he  not  handsome,  too?" 

Mildred  looked  at  him  intently.  Then  she  said, 
with  a  sigh  of  vieep  satisfaction.  "Yes,  they  are 
the  most  perfect  pair  I  have  ever  seen.  Human 
beings  must  sometimes  come  pretty  near  perfect." 

"Do  you  still  think  as  much  of  angels  and  their 
abode  as  you  used  to?" 


■  --1 


■ik« 


322  MILDRED  Kl.NT'S  HERO. 

"I  should  think  moi-e  about  them.  I  am  four 
years  older  since  I  saw  you  last;  that  is  a  long 
strip  of  the  journey  of  life." 

uDo  you  share  the  common  regret  of  the  young 
at  seeing  your  youth  slip  away?" 

Ml  did  not  know  it  was  a  usual  thing.  No,  I 
rather  enjoy  the  thought  of  approaching  another 
life.  Not  but  I  think  our  existence  here  is  a  gi-and 
gift,  but  it  haa  its  uncei-tainties  »nd  limitations, 
which  will  1)6  unknown  thei-e."  Another  sigh  was 
softly  breathed,  but  not  one  of  satisfaJction.  Mrs. 
Everett,  with  a  keenness  of  perception  that  surprised 
Mildred,  said:  "You  have  not  then  discovered  what 
is  to  be  your  work  in  this  world?" 

"  I  am  afraid  God  will  not  accept  a  divided  heart, 
nor  the  imperfect  work  such  a  heart  can  offer," 
she  said,  with  an  expression  of  sadness. 

"He  knows  the  temptations  of  youth,  its  allure- 
ment, and  He  pities  as  well  as  comprehends.  But 
we  will  talk  of  this  some  other  time;  you  must  let 
me  take  you  to  Douglass.  He  has  often  wondered 
if  you  would   continue   as   pure  and  unworldly  as 

ever."  • 

»Is  it  the  Lady  Alicia  whom  I  saw  once  at 
Grassmere,  who  is  with  him?"  she  asked,  somewhat 
nervously,  as  they  drew  nearer. 


-  —  1 


ORADUATING  BONORB. 


»S8 


em.     I  am   four 
that  is  a  long 

rret  of  the  young 

al  thing.  No,  I 
roaching  another 
ce  here  is  a  gi-and 

)^id  limitations, 
Another  sigh  was 
latisfaction.  Mrs. 
iion  that  surprised 
n  discovered  what 
?" 

pt  a  divided  heart, 
heart  can  offer," 
adness. 

'  youth,  its  allure- 
iomprehends.  But 
time ;  you  must  let 
las  often  wondered 

and  unworldly  as 

n   I   saw   once  at 
e  asked,  somewhat 


"You  have  a  fine  memoiy  for  faces,  I  see." 
Mildred  hesitated,  and  then  said  with  a  touch  of 
constraint:  "Will  she  be  pleased  to  have  me  pre- 
sented to  her?  I  remember  she  and  her  sister  won- 
dered if  common  people  were  made  out  of  the  same 
kind  of  clay  as  themselves.  You  know  I  am  very, 
verj'  common."  A  hot  flush  swept  over  the  pure 
high-bred  face  that  was  itself  a  denial  of  her  assei^ 
tion. 

"That  is  very  unexpected  news  to  me ;  we  had 
the  impression  you  were  made  of  very  uncommon 
clay.  It  seems  to  me  that  was  the  general  belief  here 
to^ay.  However,  I  assure  you  Lady  Alicia  will 
make  any  friend  of  ours  welcome." 

Mildi-ed  walked  along  rather  reluctantly,  with 
a  keener  realization  than  ever  that  her  plain  muslin 
frock  made  her  conspicuous  amid  all  that  richly- 
dressed  throng,  especially  when  her  nearer  approach 
revealed  more  clearly  the  Lady  Alicia's  elegance  of 
attire  and  manner.  Douglass  turned  to  her  with 
his  old,  boyish  cordiality,  his  face  lighting  with  a 
sudden  glow  which  surprised  her,  since  their  sep- 
aration had  been  so  long  and  so  complete,  none 
of  those  promised  epistles  having  been  forthoomr 
ing. 


--1 


824 


UILDRBD  KEHT'S  HERO. 


« I  recognized  you  at  once,"  he  said,  "even  be- 
fore you  charmed  us  with    voice  and  thoughte." 
They  had  been  chatting  together  then    for  some 
time,  and  in  the  crowd  they  had  become  separated 
from  the   rest  of  his    pai-ty.    She    looked    up  at 
him,  for  he  was    still   a  good    head    above    her, 
with    something  of   her  old  hero-worship  in  foce 
and  eyes.    "I  am  very  glad  you  have  not  grown 
altogether  away    from  me.     I  made  up  my  mind 
long  ago  that  such  a  pleasure  as  your  friendship  and 
the  visits  to  Grassmere  were  not  to  be  again  repeated 
in  my  life."   She  spoke  with  the  same  sweet  humility 
that  used  to  thrill  his  boyish  heart,  and  make  him 
long  to   be  the  knight  without  fear   and   without 
reproach   that   her  presence    and    words    used    to 

picture. 

«I  think  if  there  has  been  maiked  growth  any- 
where it  has  been  with  you,  Mildred.  I  did  not 
hear  a  theme  at  Oxford  this  year  that,  taken  all  in 
all,  I  would  reckon  equal  to  yours.  Really,  you 
miist  have  breakfasted  and  supped  with  Shakespeare 
and  Carlyle,  and  dined  now  and  then  with  some 
of  the  great  German  thinkers,  bo  have  got  into 
the  company  of  such  elevated  thoughts." 

u  Since  you  went  away  I  have  been  dependent 


-,-.  --1 


said,  "even  be- 

and  thoughts. 

then  for  some 
lecome  separated 
I  looked  up  at 
ead  above  her, 
■worship  in  foce 

have  not  grown 
de  up  my  mind 
lur  friendship  and 
be  again  repeated 
De  sweet  humility 
t,  and  make  him 
ear   and   without 

words    used    to 

rked  growth  any- 
ildred.  I  did  not 
-  that,  taken  all  in 
ours.  Really,  you 
.  with  Shakespeare 
d  then  with  some 
to  have  got  into 
Lghts." 
re  been  dependent 


OKADUATJlfO  HOSORB. 

on  books  mainly  for  company,  save  my  mother's; 
but  I  had  a  beautiful  world  with  them,  quite  apart 
from  any  my  eyes  beheld," 

"Ah,  I  understand;  those  gala  there  fell  back 
into  their  old  ways." 

♦*  It  may  have  been  my  own  fault ;  I  was  too  easily 
discouraged  in  makmg  friendly  advances ;  but  pos- 
sibly it  helped  rather  than  hindered  me.  Don't 
you  think  one's  mind  gets  clearer  in  solitude  ?  Com- 
panions,  unless  they  are  superior,  are  a  hindrance 
to  one's  development." 

"The  danger  is  that  the  mind  may  develop  too 
rapidly  and  rob  the  body.  Human  companionship 
helps  to  keep  both  mind  and  body  in  a  healthy 

state." 

w  If  one  could  choose  one's  company ;  but  in  Mul- 
berry Street," —  she  paused,  and  her  smile  was  very 
biave,  yet  sweet,  as  she  looked  up  into  his  face. 

"You  are  a  genuine  spirit-maiden,  Mildred.  In 
the  middle  ages  they  would  have  made  a  saint  of 
you,  and  painted  your  face  in  their  churches  to 
worship." 

"You  have  always  reckoned  me  a  great  deal 
better  than  I  am,"  she  said,  with  a  pained  expression, 
while  a  flush  not  of  pleasure  swept  over  her  face. 


[ 


826  MILDRED  KEST'B  BERO. 

"Those  of  your  sex  do  not  tell  me  that  usually. 
Their  right  to  he  admired  and  worshipped,  is  mutely 
insisted  on ;  hut  it  is  not  that  sort  of  worship  you 
would  liave  received  in  medisBval  times." 

u  I  wonder  which  age  will  he  called  the  nobler  by 
the  people  of  the  thirtieth  century,  -  ours  or  Uie 
one  you  speak  of?"   * 

"Your  forecast  reaches  a  long  way  ahead,  Mil- 
dred.    What   will    we   be    doing   when    that  time 

comes?" 

"If  that  question  could  be  truly  answered  we 
would  be   more  impatient  than  ever  to  begin  that 

unknown  life." 

"  We  have  drifted  into  a  strange  topic  for  this  gay 
scene.  The  present  is  very  tangible  and  very  enjoy- 
able." 

« I  certainly  find  it  so,"  she  said,  with  such  a 

contented  exhalation  one  could  not  call  it  a  sigh. 

Douglass  looked  at  her  intenUy,  whUe  her  own 
gaze  was  fixed  wistfully  on  Lady  Alicia,  who  held 
court  some  little  distance  away,  standing  with  a  very 
queenly  mien  amid  a  group  of  admiring  youths.  His 
eyes  followed  hers,  and  another  expression  came 
into  his  face.  The  one  appealed  to  the  highest  and 
but  rarexy  touched  elementa  of  his  manhood;  the 


-  1 


j^ 


me  that  usually. 

ipped,  is  mutely 

t  of  worship  you 

aes. 

3d  the  nobler  by 

ir.  —  ours  or  Uie 


OBADVATISa  ffONORS. 


887 


other  to  his  more  worldly  and  material  instincts. 
Which  would  fulfil  his  ideal  of  perfect  and  most 
desired  womanhood  when  bis  intellect  would  be 
more  matured,  only  time  could  teU.  Presently  they 
joined  the  others,  and  their  odd  convei-sation  was 
not  again  resumed  that  day. 


way   ahead,  Mil- 
when    that  time 

ily  answered  we 
^er  to  begin  that 

topic  for  this  gay 
e  and  very  enjoy- 

aid,  with  such  a 
call  it  a  sigh. 
y,  while  her  own 

Alicia,  who  held 
inding  with  a  very 
liring  youths.    His 

expression  came 
to  the  highest  and 
his  manhood;  the 


CHAPTER  XXVIl. 


IN   THB   GREENWOOD. 


TTbir  ILDRED'S    indecision    regarding  her  fu- 
l\jy       ture  work  became   more  and  more  per- 
-^A^      plexing.     She  went  home  from  the  day's 
triumph  in  anything  but  an   uplifted  mood.     The 
path  of  life  seemed  to  have    came    to    an   abrupt 
termination.     She   was  still  too  young   to    expect 
a  '^xwition  in   the  city  as  teacher,  and  any  further 
i.i8truction   in   painting  was   equally    unattainable, 
since  the  teachers  she  would  require  would  be  too 
expensive  with  their  slender  means,  and   the  other 
children  had  to  be  provided  with  books  and  suit- 
able  equipment    for  the    public    schools.     Neither 
could  she   expect   any   mission-board  to  accept  for 
their  home   or  foreign   fields  a  girl  so  young  and 


IS  THS  ORE  as  WOOD. 


SM 


1. 


D. 


)garding  her  fu- 
B  and  more  per- 
ae  from  the  day's 
[ted  mood.     The 
e    to    an   abrupt 
roung   to    expect 
and  any  further 
lly    unattainable, 
aire  would  be  too 
[8,  and   the  other 
I  books  and  suit- 
schools.     Neither 
ard  to  accept  for 
irl  80  young  and 


inexperienced.      No  wonder  some    thoughts    came 
unbidden  that   made  her  sad  as  she  stood  watch- 
ing the  stars   when  all   in   the    house,  save    her- 
self, were  asleep.     The  two  whom  she  had  watched 
tliat  afternoon   as  they    walked    side    by  side, — 
the   most  perfect-looking    pair  it    had    ever    been 
her  lot    to    gaze    upon,  —  came    back    vividly    to 
mind.     How   far  removed  their    lives    were    from 
hers,  crowned  with  the  richest  gifts  of  this  world, 
no  painful  uncei  .unties  clouding  their  early  morn- 
ing,  the    highest    culture    within    reach,   all    con- 
genial  things   within   their  grasp!     The    face    up- 
turned   to     the     midnight    stars    was    full    of    a 
longing  they   could   not  satisfy;  for  to-night    her 
heart  was   no   longer  the   child's  heart   that    had, 
through    the    years,    held    communion   with  them 
and  been    comforted.     She    had.  suddenly    drifted 
into   deeper,  mord   troubled  waters,  whose  ground- 
swell  brought  echoes  from  far-off  continents  never 
dreamed  of  before.     But  if  pain,  that  pain  which 
the   soul   alone  can    experience    and   which    there- 
fore  is   the   nearest  the   infinite,   is   a  handmaiden 
to  lift  us   to  better  things,  to  pity  her  Avould  be 
waste  of  sympathy.     Rather  should  we   call    that 
an   evangel   which  forces    us    in    ihe    solitude    of 


i^--.. -■--.-. 


330  MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

the  so'ul  to  seek  fellowship  beyond  the  best  of  hu- 
man  kind.     No   matter  how   desolate    the    lot,    it 
is  still   an    enviable    one    where    the    soul    is    in 
harmony  with   the   Divine.     At  last,   turning  res- 
olutely from   the   window,  she   prepared  for  those 
houw   of  unconsciousness,    which    bring    rest    and 
strength  to  the  wearied   body.    With    the    morn- 
ing light  came   fresh   resolution  to    continue    the 
mental  work  that  had  so  fully  occupied  the  last 
few  years.     She  compared  herself  to  an  unskilled 
workman  with  a  few  tools  and  some  slight  knowl- 
edge   of   his    craft,  but    its    real    mysteries    still 
unconquered.       Education     had    given    a    partial 
glimpse  of  the  laws  that  regulate  our  world  and 
its  occupants ;  but,  as  yet,   that  glimpse    was    io 
faint,   it  bewildered  rather  than  satisfied  her,  m- 
tensifying  the  desire   to  penetrate  more   of    these 
secrets  of  nature.     So   while  her  needle    was    fly- 
ing swiftly  in  and  out  of    the    shimmering    fab- 
rics which  her  mother  was   teaching  her  how  to 
fasliion  artistically,   her    brain    was    equally  busy. 
With  an    open  book  at   hand    she    was    able,  at 
leisure,    to    assimilate    its    contents    and    perhaps 
got  more   of  its  spirit  than  if,   with  idle    hands, 
she  had  sat  down   to  peruse   ita   contents. 


~     T 


ERO. 

nd  the  best  of  hu- 
olate    the    lot,    it 
the    soul    is    in 
last,   turning  res- 
prepared  for  those 
I    bring    rest    and 
With    the    morn- 
to    continue    the 
occupied  the  last 
ilf  to  an  unskilled 
some  slight  knowl- 
sal    mysteries    still 
given    a    partial 
late  our  world  and 
it  glimpse    was    io 
a  satisfied  her,  in- 
ate  more   of    these 
er  needle    was    fly- 
e    shimmering    fab- 
aching  her  how  to 
was    equally  busy, 
she    was    able,  at 
itents    and    perhaps 
I,  with  idle    hands, 
Its  contents. 


m 


|>BBiBmffm«"''fiW°ff- 


/S  THE  GREENWOOD. 


831 


While  no  other  work  presented  itoelf,  her 
mother  concluded  to  teach  her  to  be  a  skilled 
needle-woman.  "Any  work,"  she  said  to  her  a 
day  or  two  after  school  was  ended,  "is  better 
than  idleness;  and  to  know  how  to  make  one's 
own  g.mnents  skillfully  is  one  kind  of  educa- 
tion." 

"  You  may  find  dress-making  very  useful  among 
your  cannibak.  One  of  the  first  tilings  missionarjes' 
wives  do  is  to  set  them  to  fixing  up  some 
clothes,"  Paul  said  lightly.  He  was  more  averse 
than  ever  to  having  Mildred  waste  her  life  in 
such  uncivilized  parts  of  the  eart'o. 

"Is  Mildred  going  to  be  a  missionary's  wife ? " 
Grace  asked  sutpTised. 

"Why,  of  course,"  Paul  responded.  "Young 
ladies  who  go  out  as  missionaries  don't  have  to 
wait  any  time  for  husbands.  If  I  was  an  old 
maid,  that  is  where  I  would  go.''  Paul  was 
twelve  years  old  now,  and  felt  more  of  a  man 
than  most  c'd  gentlemen  do  at  eighty,  while  he 
assumed  a  knowledge  of  things  in  general  quite 
out  of  proportion  to  his  years  or  size.  He  was 
as  proud  of  Mildred  as  ever,  and  his  keen,  boy- 
ish   eyes    bad    noted    her   rare    type    of    beauty, 


'jm 


882  MILDRED  KENT^a  HERO. 

'  While  he  was    equally  proud    of   her    inteUectual 
endowmente.    He  and  Jack    Carver  occupied    to- 
gether    a    back    seat    Commencement    Day,  when 
1  had  her    ovation.    "I    t«ll    you,    any    feUow 
would  be  proud    of    her    «-  ^  ««^^' '   ^^^ 
pered,  with    flushed    cheeks,    as  he    watched    t^e 
Le™    falling    about   her  chair.    Since    then   he 
had  bestowed  a  litde  more  consideration  on  her, 
having  unwillingly    admitted  to  himself  that  she 
was  nearly   equal    n,    the   average  boy, -a  com- 
pliment of  the    finest  quaUty  a  lad  between  ten 
and    eighteen    years    can    give    to   a  girl.    Aiter 
that  age,  for  some    years,  tHey  go  t«  the   other 
extreme  in    striking    their    averages   between    the 

'Turing   these   years   the    u^ission^hool    at    St. 
Malachi's  had  continued    to    flourish,    while  Mrs. 
Kent  still  kept  charge.    Other  cUisses    had    been 
formed,   and    teachers    appointed,    to    keep    pace 
with  its  growth;  and  the  benefit  thus  commg  to 
the    church    through    Mrs.    Kent    had    been     fiur 
^ater  than   all  it»  c^her  combined  forces.    Betsy 
Tnes  sat    in    the    choir    now,   at    St.    Malachis, 
and  when  her  famUy  at  home  proved   refractory 
on  a  domestic  subject,  she    easUy  reduced    tivem 


,  ^wtHW^'^Ww*-  V" 


rm  iifflmiitfif»-^«»'«'>««»-''*«^i»««°^^ 


',R0. 

her    intellectual 

ver  occupied    to- 

nent    Day,  when 

you,    any    feUow 

siBter,"   he    whis- 

he  watched  the 
.  Since  then  he 
isideration  on  her, 

himself  that  she 
ige  boy,  —  a  com- 
i  lad  between  ten 

to  a  girl.  After 
r  go  to  the  other 
:ages   between    the 

ision-Bchool    at    St. 
ourish,    while  Mrs. 
classes    had    been 
ed,    to    keep    l*ce 
efit  thus  coming  to 
ent    had    been     far 
bined  forces.    Betsy 
,    at    St.    Malachi's» 
e  proved   refractory 
asily  reduced    tlaem 


IN  TEE  OBEBSWOOD. 


333 


to  submission   by  threatening    to    join    Mr.    Fel- 
ton's    church.     The    youthful    Carv  re,  patterned 
very    much    after    their    sister     Adelphine,    had 
dropped    into    the    school;    Jack  still    came    and 
vas    as    attentive  to  the  lessons  as  when,  years 
ago,  the  Bible  began  to  supersede  m  his  affections 
the  Foliee  Newt  and  similar  literary  productions. 
He  was  now  earning  his  own  living  respectably, 
and  lodging  with  an  old  couple  only  a  short  dis- 
tance from   Mrs.    Kent's.      He    frequented    night- 
whools.  Christian  Associations,  literary  societies  and 
kindred    institutions,    and    was    becomiug  quite  a 
light  in  his  own  circle.    Indeed,  he  had  confided 
to    Mildred   and    her  mother  his  intention  of  be- 
coming a  public  speaker,  and    getting    his   bread 
by  the  use  of  his  tongue. 

"It  seems  the  most  unlikely  of  one's  members 
to  make  one  famous;  but  if  it  is  limber  there 
is  no  surer  way,"  he  remarked  one  evening  short- 
ly after  Mildred's   truimph.  » 

"But  it  needs  the  bram  behind  it  to  do  the 
work,"  Mildred  suggested  timidly.  She  never  liked 
to  discourage  Jack,  and  consequentiy  hii  air-castles 
never  appeared  so  gorgeous  as  when  erected  in 
her  society. 


'M 


884  MILDRED  KENT  ^8  HERO. 

»Oh,  yes,  some  biitins,  cei-teinly ;  but  not  nearly 
so  much  as  for  a  good  many  other  thii^gs.     I  have 
been  following   around  aft«r  the   popular   speakers 
for  a  good   while,  and  I  have  come    to   the    con- 
clusion that  only   about  one   in  six  makes  a  hit 
with  their  brains.     It   is   other  qualities  which   at- 
tract    the   people;   I     am    not    always    quit«  sure 
what  it  is,  but  for  one   thing,  they  must  have  an 
easy  way  about  them,  as    if   they  owned   the   ship 
and  walked    the    quarterdeck  too,   and    the    rest 
of  us  were   all  common  sailors.  ^^  I  notice  those  are 
the   ones   folks  praise   the  most." 

u  I  believe  we  do  like  t«  be  governed  and  have 
some  one  to  look   up   to,"-   Mildred   repUed,  while 

Jack  continued  his  descriptions. 

uYou  must  have  unlimited  faith  in  yourself ,  and 

a  good  voice,  and  know   which  words  to  empha. 

size;  then  if  you  are  able  to  make   the   audience 

laugh  and  cry,  and  once   in  a  while  give  them  a 

thrill,  your  success  is  certain." 

Mrs.'  Kent  had  been  an  appreciative  listener  to 

Jack's  eloquence.    .  .j       •+ 

»I  think,  even  according  to   your  own   idea,  it 

requires  a  good  deal  of    abiUty  to   make  a   pubUc 


-'} 


-,».....^.»«.»»....-.,«»>,...M^^  «»>»-,^^.^ 


y  ;   but  not  nearly 
er  thiiigs.     I  have 
popular   speakers 
ome    to   the    con- 
six   makes  a  hit 
[qualities  which  at- 
ilways    quite  sure 
they  mu8t  have  an 
y  owned   the   ship 
»o,   and    the    rest 
I  notice  those  are 

governed  and  have 
Ired   replied,  while 

lith  in  yourself,  and 
I  words  to  emphar 
make  the  audience 
while  give  them  a 

reciative  listener  to 

your  own   idea,  it 
'  to   make  a   public 


;JV  TRE  a  BEEN  WOOD. 


885 


"  I  have  decided  it  takes  a  good  deal  of  that 
article  now-a-days  to  make  one  a  success  at  any- 
thing ;  but  it  won't  hurt  to  try,  and  you  will  be 
as  well  off  at  the  end  as  those  who  don't  attempt 
anything,"  he  said  resolutely. 

"  I  would  be  the  one  in  six  that  uses  the  brains 
if   I   were    you,"   Mildred   recommended. 

"You  may  be  sure  I  will  use  all  I  have, — 
one  can't  do  anj  more,  but  I  am  trying  for  the 
other  things,  too." 

"Do  you  ever  lecture  ?  "  Paul  asked  eagerly. 

"Well,  not  exactly  lecture,  except  in  my  own 
room  or  some  place  where  no  one  is  around ;  but  I 
speak  at  every  opportunity  I  have  in  the  Association 
and  our  literary  societies.  I  am  going  to  the 
country  in  August,  where  there  are  plenty  of  trees, 
—  I  think  that  would  be  a  superior  place  to  prac- 
tice." 

"Will  you  live  among  them  all  the  time?" 
Paul  inquired. 

"Yes,  it  is  the  most  economical  way.  I  shall 
take  a  tent  and  board  myself  —  make  a  fire  out  of 
doors   to   do   my  own  cooking,  and  catch  my  own 

fish." 

Paul's  soul  was  looking  most  eloquently  through 


^^ 


886  MILDRED  KENT'B  HERO. 

his    flves.     ">\on't   you  be   lonesome,   old  fellow, 

there  aloie?" 

«0f  a  rainy  night,  or  when  the  fish  don't  bite, 
perhaps;  but  one  can't  have  country  privileges 
and  city  company  too.  Only  the  wealthy  indi- 
viduals, who  rusticate  at  Long  Branch  and  Sara- 
toga, are  able  to  do  that." 

♦'I'd  much  rather  go  with  you  and  sleep  in 
a  tent,  than  with  Douglass  Everett  to  those  places, 
and  be  with  a  crowd  of  women  and  girls." 

"Would  you  like  to  come  with  me?" 

« I   just    would,   if  all   are   agreed.     Would  it 

cost  much?" 

"I  could  meet  all  the  liabilities,  and  not  risk 
bankruptcy,  if  your  mother  >vUl  give  her  consent." 

They  both  turned  anxiously  to  Mrs.  Kent  — 
Paul  with  a  mutinous  little   frown  already  gather 

ing  on  his  brow. 

"I  am  very  grateful  to  Jack  for  his  generous 
offer.  Do  you  think  I  could  safely  trust  you  in 
the  woods  and  by  the  water?" 

«  Trust  me !    I  should  think  so ! "  answered  Paul. 

"  I  will  endanger  my  own  life  to  save  him  if  he 
should  be  exposed  to  danger,"  Jack  said  loftily. 
Already  he  practiced  high-sounding  words  in  com- 
mon  convereation,  to  accustom  himself  to  their  use. 


Mi*i 


BO. 

some,   old  fellow, 

he  fish  don't  bite, 
lountry  privileges 
he  wealthy  indi- 
Branch  and  Sara- 

you  and  sleep  in 
tt  to  those  places, 
i  giris." 
;h  me?" 
,greed.     Would  it 

[ties,  and  not  risk 
ive  her  consent." 

to    Mrs.  Kent  — 
iwn  already  gather- 

jk  for  his  generous 
afely  trust  you  in 

J ! "  answered  Paul, 
e  to  save  him  if  he 
Jack  said  loftily, 
iing  words  in  com- 
Imself  to  their  use. 


IN  THE  ORE ES  WOOD. 


887 


«<That  would  be  risking  both  of  my  boys.  I 
would  rather  have  the  promise  that  you  will  both 
take  care  no  such  sacrifice  would  be  required." 

Jack's  eyes  glistened,  while  he  was  ready  to 
make  any  promise  to  the  woman  who  had  just 
called  him  her  boy. 

"  How  long  will  you  let  Paul  stay  with  me  ?  " 

"  How  long  a  time  will  }  o  i  want  him  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  planning  if  you  would  let  him  go, 
that  we  might  stay  two  or  three  weeks;  that  is, 
if  he  did  not  get  homesick," 

"  HomesicK  I "  said  Paul  contemptuously,  while 
Mildred  asked  curiously,  "Were  you  thinking  of 
taking  Paul  with  you  before  this  evening?" 

"  Why,  yes,  I  have  been  thinking  of  it  for  a 
summer  or  two,  but  have  not  been  in  a  position 
financially  to  put  my  desires  into  execution." 

"  It's  a  capital  thing,  having  friends  with  plenty 
of  money.  I  believe  we  are  more  fortunate  than 
most  folks  in  that  respect." 

"Money  is  not  everything,  Paul.  Your  mother 
has  helped  some  of  us  more  than  if  she  had  laid 
out  hundreds  of  dollars  on  us,"  Jack  said  impul- 
sively. 

"That  is  like  history  repeating  itself.    St.  Peter 


•—  *-1 


'7^^f.ft<ip.-::A.->.^. 


898  MILDRED  KENT'S  BEMO. 

said  to  ihe  paralytic,  'Silver  and  gold  have  I  none ; 
bui  8uch  as  1  have  give  I  thee.'  God's  people 
ever  since  have  been  doing,  to  some  extent,  as  St. 

Peter  did." 

.*l>on't  let  us  talk  Bible  any  more,"  Paul  pleaded. 
"I  want  to  talk  about  camping  out  and  catchmg 
trout.    Do    you    wado    in   after  them? "he  asked 

nervoufily. 

"Why,  Paul,  don't  you  know  more  than  that 
about  men's  sports  ?  "  Mildred  asked,  quite  ashamed 
of  Paul's  ignorance. 

.«Hov/  could  I  know,  shut  up  aU  my  life  with 
a  lot  of  women-folk?"  he  said  hotly. 

"You  have  a  long  pole,  with  a  Une  at  the  end, 
and  a  few  feathers  made  up  like  a  fly,  or  else  an 
angle-worm  fastened  to  a  hook;  you  throw  that 
into  the  water,  and  the  fish  come  and  nibble 
at  it,"  Jack  explained. 

'What  is  the  hook  for?"  Grace  asked. 
"The  trout  get  it  fastened  in  their  mouths,  and 
yea  whisk  them  ^ut  of  the  water." 
»  Does  it  hui-t  / "  she  asked  pitifully. 
"Certainly  it  hurts  the   trout;  but  they  don't 
think  much  of  that  after  they  are  whisked  out  of 
the  water." 


*-1 


mmm 


to. 

jold  have  I  none ; 
e.'  God's  people 
ame  extent,  as  St. 

re,"  Paul  pleaded, 
out  and  catcbing 
them? "he  asked 

T  more   than   that 
iked,  quite  ashamed 

p  all   my  life  with 

lotly- 

a  line  at  the  end, 

:e  a  fly,  or  else  an 

z;    you  throw  that 

come   and    nibble 

•ace  asked. 

1  their  mouths,  and 

ter." 

pitifully. 

ut;  but   they  don't 

are  whisked  out  of 


IN  THE  OBEENWOOD. 


889 


"You  won't  want  to  catch  them,  will  you, 
Paul?" 

"  Indeed^  1  will ;  and  you  will  want  to  eat 
them,  too, — the  beauties  that  we  will  bring  home 
with  us.  I  will  take  you  to  the  market  to-morrow, 
and  show  you  some." 

"I  wouldn't  care  to  eat  anything  that  had  been 
80  cruelly  killed." 

"Why,  you  baby,  everything  has  been  killed — 
beef  and  chickens  and  turkeys." 

"What  a  dreadful  world  it  is!  But  one  must 
eat.  They  don't  have  to  kill  anything  to*  get 
bread  and  potatoes  and  butter,  do  they^"  she 
asked  with  a  shiver. 

"Certainly  not,"  Jack  replied.  "And  if  human 
beings  did  not  consume  animals,  they  would  not 
exist  at  all ;  and  a  few  months  or  years  are  better 
for  them  than  never  to  have  lived.  Besides,  it  is  less 
painful  to  be  killed  instantly,  than  to  suffer  the 
pains  of  dissolution  for  months,  like  human  beings 
often  do." 

"  I  never  thought  how  much  death  there  was  in 
the  world;  and  we  must  all  die,  some  time." 
Grace  was  growing  very  dolorous,  and  her  mother 
endeavored  to  change  the  conversation  to  more 
healthy  topics. 


'   t 


840  MILDRED  KEST'8  BERO. 

The  day  came  at  last  when   Jack  waa   ready  to 
go.    The    August    sun    was    making    life    in   the 
CTXJwded   city   more   of   a  burden   than   deUght   to 
others  besides  Paul,  who  had  never  seen  the  hou« 
move    so     slowly     before.      The    morning     Jack 
called,  and  he  and    Paul   walked   together   to   tiie 
depot,  there  could  hardly  have  been  found  m  the 
whole  vast  city  two  happier  individuals  than  these 
two  youths.    If  there  were,  they  were  certainly  to 
be  envied.     Paul   staggered   along   under  a  basket 
of  eatables    that  Mrs.  Kent   thought    would   serve 
them  for  several   days,  thereby  considerably  lessen- 
ing    Jack's    expenses.       Paul    had    many    a    time 
watched,  with  longing  eyes,  the  cars  moving  away 
with  their  living  freight,  Uttle  knowing  how  many 
a    sorrowful,    anxious    heart    they   contained;  but 
this    was   his    own    first   railway   excursion,  and  a 
bunch    of  thistledown   was   scarcely  as   light,  just 
then,  as  his  glad  heart.     In   a   very   large   pocket, 
book,  which  he  had  purchased  the  day  before,   lay 
the  money  for  his  ticket   and   other  incidental   ex- 
penses.     With  a  very  unnecessaiy  flourish  he  took 
it  out  as  he  stood  beside  Jack  at  the  ticket  office, 
and   waited   his  turn    to   invest.     He    glanced    at 
some    mgged    urchins   hovering   neai-,  hopmg  they 


-■'--raBT^yy.'itww 


-   t 


10. 

k  was  ready  to 
ng  life  in  the 
than  delight  to 
:  seen  the  hours 

morning  Jack 
together  to  the 
m  found  in  the 
iduals  than  these 
wrere  certainly  to 

under  a  basket 
jht  would  serve 
nsiderably  lessen- 
i  many  a  time 
lars  moving  away 
lowing  how  many 
y   contained;  but 

excursion,  and  a 
sely  as  light,  just 
ery  large  pocket- 
ie  day  before,  lay 
iier  incidental  ex- 
y  flourish  he  took 
A  the  ticket  office. 
He  glanced  at 
neai',  hoping  they 


IN  TBE  ORE  ES  WOOD. 


841 


would  get  a  glimpse  of  the  repository  for  his  cash. 
His  desire  was  granted.  "Say,  lend  us  a  fiver, 
Mr.  Pocketboo^,"  one  of  them  said  with  a  grin, 
while  they  all  came  crowding  up.  Paul  very  hast- 
ily slipped  his  cash-book  out  of  sight  and  hastened 
after  Jack  to  escape  their  jeers,  — he  found  very 
early  in  his  travelling  experiences  it  was  just  as 
well  not  to  make  a  parade   of   one's  wealth. 

The  morning's  ride  had  a  charming  freshness  for 
both  of  them,  but  Paul  grew  very  impatient  to  get 
to  the  wide,  healthy  breathing«pace8  of  the  open 
country.  It  took  a  good  while  before  they  had 
passed  all  the  houses  of  the  city,  but  once  they 
were  in  sight  of  the  woods  and  meadows,  with 
cattle  feeding  on  the  hillwsides  or  standing  knee- 
deep  in  the  streams,  his  rapture  was  unbounded. 

"Whatever  do  they  have  cities  for?"  he  cried 
impatiently, "  when  there  is  so  much  room  in  the 
country?" 

"Most  people  prefer  cities.  They  find  the  soli- 
tude of  the  country  irksome,  and  they  crave  the 
excitement   that   multitudes   of   their  fellow-beings 

bring." 

"  They  can't  be  very  sensible  people  to  get  lone- 
some out  here.  Will  it  bo  countiy  like  this  where 
we  are  going?  " 


iiwpiiyifiiiRffH 


imm^^ 


MILDRED  KENT'S  BERO. 


will  hftve 


"Yes,  even  more  so  than   this, 
no  houses  in  sight. 

"I  wish  I  was  an  Indian,"  Paul  said  after  a 
long  silence.  He  thought  their  brief  fortnight 
would  too  soon  end,  when  they  must  go  back  to 
the  suffocating,  dirty  city.  "  When  I  am  a  man  I 
shall  go  away  off  where  land  is  cheap  and  get  a 
thousand  acres.  Then  I  won't  have  folks  crowding 
me,"  he  said  decidedly. 

«  I  shall  reside  in  the  city.  A  few  weeks'  out- 
ing in  the  country  will  suffice  in  the  heated  term 
of  summer.  Advantages  for  culture  and  acquiiing 
wealth  are  superior  in  the  city,"  Jack  remarked, 
with    the    superior    knowledge    of     six    additional 

years. 

"Money  is  only  one  thing.  There  are  a  gi<eat 
many  other  things  I  would  rather  have,  if  I  had 
to  choose  between  them." 

"Money  will  bring  you  everything." 
"  I  don't  believe  it,"  Paul  said  stoutly,  whUe 
there  flashed  frem  memory  a  vision  of  that  weary- 
looking  lord  whom  he  had  seen  at  Grassmere  so 
long  ago.  Their  arguments  always  ended  amicably, 
and  soon  theu-  conversation  drifted  into  other  chan- 
nels. 


We    will   hftvo 

i  said  after  a 
brief  fortnight 
gt  go  back  to 
I  am  a  man  I 
«ap  and  get  a 
I  folka  crowding 

ew  weeks'  out* 
lie  heated  term 
)  and  acquiring 
Jack  remarked, 
six    additional 

ere    are  a  gi-eat 
have,  if   I   had 

I   stoutly,   while 

I  of  that  weary- 

t   Orassmere   so 

ended  amicably, 

into  other  chan- 


II    Jt^-i 


IN  TBE  ORSXNWOOD.  •*• 

When  the  newiMtgent  came  around  with  hi* 
stoi-es,  Paul  eyed  him  admiringly.  The  goods  he 
had,  and  the  military-looking  costume,  made  him 
seem  a  veiy  important  personage  for  hia  size. 

"I  wish  I  could  keep  store  like  you,"  he  said 
while  affecting  the  purchase  of  a  fine  orange. 
The  news-agent's  usually  set  features  relaxed  into 
a  broad  smile.  "I  never  heard  this  called  keep- 
ing store." 

»♦  Will  they  let  any  one  come  here   and   sell  ? " 
»*A8  you  are    a    veiy    decent-looking    boy,  per- 
haps they  might  allow  you." 

"There  are  other  requirements  than  respectabil- 
ity," Jack  said  coldly,  while  he  wished  Paul 
would  not  be  quite  so  effusive. 

"You  want  to  be  a  farmer  and  a  news-agent 
both,"  he   said,  after  they  were  alone. 

"I  expect  there  are  a  good  many  other  things 
that,  if  I  knew  about  them,  I  would  like  to  do," 
Paul  said  evasively,  —  the  world  that  morning  was 
broadening  out  amazingly  before  him ;  he  had  no 
idea  before  that  our  world  was  such  a  seductive 
planet.  They  reached  their  destination  a  little 
after  mid-day — a  quiet,  countiy  place,  with  few 
houses,  and  not  far  from  a  dense   foi-est  in   whose 


"-1 


844 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


shadows  Jack  was  bent  on  erecting  his  tent.     When 
Paul  stood  on  the   platform   of  the   small   station- 
house,  and  watched  the  train  sweeping  far  away,  a 
feeling  of    loneliness    came    over    him;    but  Jack 
spoke  bO  cheerily,  while  he  pointed  out  the   broad 
stream  where   thr    trout    were   jumping,   and   the 
sheltering   woods    wherein    their   tent   was   to    be 
pitched,  that  he  soon   forgot   his  slight  attack  of 
homesickness.       A  shambling,   loose-jointed  fellow 
was  hovering  near,  as  if  in  search  of    an  easy  job. 
Jack  secured  his  services   to    assist   in   setting   up 
their  establishment.     They  gathered  up   a   part    of 
of  their  belongings,  leaving  the  rest  in  the  station- 
master's  care,  and  started  across  a  stretch   of    dry 
pasture  land   where    a  few  dejected-looking   cows 
were  busily  cropping  the  stunted  grass ;  then  they 
crossed  the   stream   by    a   delightfully    flangerous- 
looking  bridge,  which  Paul  admired  far  more  than 
the  massive  structures  to  which  he   had  been  ac- 
customed- 

M  Y*-:.  must  make  your  fires  down  by  the  stream, 
_  all  the  campers  have  to  do  that,  or  else  quit 
the  place,"   the  man  informed  them. 

"Then  we  had  better  not  ei-ect  our  tent  too 
far  withm  the  forest's  depths,"  Jack  suggested. 


■MSiSUfM'-kT. 


-  t 


.^M'"    -: 


■Ml 


•aOm 


RO. 

his  tent.  When 
le  small  station- 
jping  far  away,  a 

him ;  but  Jack 
d  out  the  broad 
imping,  and  the 
tent   was   to    be 

slight  attack  of 
ose-jointed  fellow 
I  of  an  easy  job. 
8t  in  setting  up 
3d  up  a  part  of 
!8t  in  the  station- 
i  stretch  of  dry 
5ted-looking  cowa 
grass ;  then  they 
itfully  flangerous- 
red  far  more  than 
he   had  been  ac- 

iwn  by  the  stream, 

that,  or  else  quit 

lem. 

ect    our   tent  too 

fack  suggested. 


IN  THE  OREENWOOD. 


845 


"Somewherea  near  by  your  fire'd  be  best.  It'll 
help  frighten  away  the  mosquitoes  —  they're  power- 
ful thick  here." 

"We  are  not  airaid  of  'squitoes,"  Paul  affirmed 
courageously.  Already  the  stillness  of  his  8Ui> 
roundings  was  growing  awesome. 

"Maybe  you're  not;  but   you'll  find   these  fel- 
lows have  sharp  teeth." 
"'Squitoes  have  no  teeth." 
Jack  thought  the   argument  had   proceeded   far 
enough,  and   set   the   man   to   putting   down   the 
stakes,  while  Paul  hovered  near. 

The  tent   was   soon   in  position,  a  fire  burning 
merrily  on  the  beach,  and  a  heap  of  spruce  boughs 
laid  in  a  comer  of  the   tent  for  a  bed.    They  got 
a  box    from  the    obliging   station-master   to  serve 
for  pantry,  where  Jack  put   his    own    and    Paul's 
goodly  supply  of  provisions,  and  then  went  to  a  neigh- 
boring farmhouse  to  hire   the   use    of  a  frying-pan 
and  kettle.    They  made  arrangements  also  with  the 
same  convenient  neighbor  for  their  supply  of  eggs, 
butter,  milk,  and  vegetables.     Paul's  spirits  were  on 
the  point  of  effervescmg  when,  their  arrangements 
all  completed,  and  their  domestic  machinery  in  good 
running  ordei,  he  followed  Jack   to  the  stream  to 


846 


MILDRED  KEST'B  HERO. 


get  some  trout  for  supper.  Thfcy  fidhed  for  some 
time  without  success.  Neither  of  them  had  ever  cast 
a  line  before,  and  it  took  them  a  good  while  to  do 
it  skillfully  enough  to  entice  a  trout  after  their 
bait;  but  at  last  Jack  drew  out  a  speckled  beauty. 
Paul  was  in  raptures,  a  number  of  times  feeling 
cei-tain  he  had  a  bite;  but  the  only  game  that  came 
to  his  hook  wei-e  tree-bi-anches  and  roots.  Jack's 
success  was  veiy  limited,  but  they  were  able  to  say, 
in  their  first  letter  home,  they  had  trout  for  supper 
the  very  evening  they  came. 

Paul  took  a  stroll  through  the  woods  after  tea, 
while  Jack  went  off  by  himself  to  practise  a  lesson 

in  oratory. 

As  ho  wandered  through  the  dense  green  spa- 
ces, Paul  felt  his  spirits  growing  lighter.  There 
was  nothing  here  to  terrify;  none  of  the  silence 
and  awful  solitude  he  had  expected.  Every  inch 
of  ground  seemed  to  be  inhabited  with  healthy 
living  creatures  busy  about  the  impatient  concerns 
of  their  every-dey  existence.  The  trees  seemed  to 
be  a  vast  concert-hall,  where  birds  of  various  kinds 
\,ere  twittering  soft  lullabys  to  wee  nestlings,  or 
pouring  out  glees  and  madrigals  and  choruses  with 
a  prodigality  of  vocal  energy  that  amazed  the  city 


KO. 

6dhed  for  some 
hem  had  ever  cast 

good  while  to  do 
trout    after   their 

speckled  beauty. 

of  times  feeling 
ly  game  that  came 
nd  roots.  Jack's 
'  were  able  to  say, 

trout  for  supper 

3  woods  after  tea, 
I  practise  a  lesson 

dense  green  spa- 
ig  lighter.  There 
le  of  the  silence 
icted.  Every  inch 
ited  with  healthy 
impatient  concerns 
le  trees  seemed  to 
ds  of  various  kinds 
wee  nestlings,  or 
I  and  choruses  with 
lat  amazed  the  city 


IN  THE  OREEN^OOD. 


847 


boy,  who  listened  to  them   for  the    first  time    in 
his  brief  existence.     He    wished    very   much    that 
Mildred  was  there  long  enough   to  give  expi-ession 
to  his  feelings.     He  felt  his  own  powers  of  expres- 
sion utterly  inadequate   and    there    was   iiomething 
actually  painful  to  him  in   having    so    many  new 
thoughts  that  he  had  no  language  to   voice.     Mil- 
dred   always    seemed    to    have    such  a  convenient 
faculty   of  saying  what  others  felt  in  moments   of 
strong  emotion,  that  he  never  realized  how  useful 
she    was  until  that  hour,  while  for  the  first  t^-me  it 
occured  to  him  that   she   was   something  like  the 
poets    whose    «eords   touch    deeper    chords  in  the 
human  heart  than  any  others  of  the   children    of 
Adam  —  no  matter  whether  their  sentences  rhyme 
or  not.    He    went    back   to   the   tent   at  last   his 
thoughts    still  .  unuttered,  and  lying  down  on  his 
spicy  couch  was  crooned  to  sleep   deliciously  by 
the    frogs    who    were    singing    in  a    marsh    way 
across  the  river. 


'••1 


.d^iSS^^ 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


BVS  B-BBB. 


yrrfO  Paul  and  Jack  those  days  seemed  to  go 


&l}9 


on    "dove's  wings,"  there   was    so    little 


jar  and  turmoU  in  them.    Before  the  hist 
day  came,  Paul  had  been  many  a  time  thrilled  at 
sight  of  an  excited,    speckled    trout    dangling   at 
the  end  of  his  line.    He  could  cUmb  a  tree  now 
as  mmbly  aa  any  country  boy,    walk  the  fences, 
milk  the  cows,  and  could  distinguish  at  least  half 
a    dozen    different    bird-notes,  with    sundry  other 
accomplishmeniB  only  to  be  acquired  in  the  wideness 
of  the  country.    He  daUy  regretted  that  his   lot 
had  not  faUen  in  a  farmhouse  with  the  prospect, 
at  majority,  of  a  farm  provided  and  stocked,  such 
as  the   farmers'  sons  in  that  vicinity  received  from 


848 


■-■  "l 


i.a4il!i»*aBBa.*,'A'--^ii..- 


m 


III. 


days  seemed  to  go 
lere  was  so  little 
a.    Before  the  last 

a  tiiue  thrilled  at 
trout  dangling  at 
I  climb  a  tree  now 
,  walk  the  fences, 
iguish  at  least  half 
8»rith  sundry  other 
ired  in  the  wideness 
retted  that  his   lot 

with  the  prospect, 
I  and  stocked,  such 
jinity  received  from 


SET  FREE. 


849 


their  thrifty  parents.     He  actually  regretted  the  ne- 
cessity  for  sleep,  and   abbreviated  it   at  both  ends 
as  far  as  he  was  able.     At  night  there   were   har- 
monies   not    heard    in    the  b  I,»ht  sunshine,  —  the 
water  rippling  past  their  tent  had  a  different  mur- 
mur;   the  frogs'  voices  rang  out  more  clear;    and 
now  and  then  the  note  of  a  night-bird  sounded  so 
str-age  and  weird,  he  shivered   comfortably  on  his 
bed  of  spruce,  and  thought  of  them   in  their  nests 
in  the  highest   branches   of  the  trees,  feeling  very 
glad  he  was    not  a  robin   perched   away  up   there. 
With  reluctance  he  bade  good-bye  to  all  these,  and 
the  farmer  folk  too,  who  had  been  unusually  kind 
to  him,  going  so    far    in   their   kindness,   in   some 
cases,  as  to  invite  him  back  the  following  summer 
to  stay  a  week  or  two  with  each  of  them.    He  ex- 
pressed his  surprise  to  Jack  on  their  way  home   in 
the  cars,  that  they  should  be  so  good  to  him;  but 
Jack  accounted  for  the  phenomenon  by  assuring  him 
that  it  was  because  he  had  been  so  obliging  and 
pleasant  himself. 

"I  assure  you  there  is  nothing  pays  one  better 
than  to  conduct  one's  self  in  that  way.  One  never 
can  know  when  his  courteous  acts  may  come  back 
and  greet  him." 


«5j;-,.,™.  »».MUW<)^4t^i.^^?SI 


--1 


860  MILDRED  KEHra  HERO. 

Paul  reflected  silently  on  back's  remark,  and  then 

said: 

Mif  we  are  good-natuied  with  iieople  because 
we  expect  to  get  paid  for  it  some  time,  it  won't 
amount  to  much." 

"Possibly  not,  if  one  weighs  those  things  cai-e- 
fully ;  but  if  we  are  to  be  successful,  we  must  take 
aU  these  things  into  account.  It  is  the  minute 
actions  veiy  often  that  have  the  greatest  influence 
on  our  careers.  A  pleasant  word  and  polite  act 
may  get  us  a  vote  a  dozen  years  hence  for  some 
coveted  office  or  emolument." 

» It  might  do  for  politicians  to  spend  their  time 
smirking  at  their  fellow-men,  but  I  don't  mean  to  be 
a  public  servant.  It  costs  altogether  too  much  for 
all  the  honor  it  brings,"  Paul  said  wearily,  for  Jack's 
ethics  had  a  depressing  effect  on  his  spuits. 

The  welcome  awaiting  him  when  he  reached  home 
made  Paul,  for  the  time,  forget  the  scenes  he  had 
left  so  reluctantly;  besides,  there  was  a  special 
piece  of  good  news  to  be  communicated  to  him. 
MUdred  had  work,  and  so  much  better  than  she 
had  expected  that  they  were  all  elated  at  her 
success. 

After  he  had  told  eveiy  incident  of  the  past  fort- 


--t 


JERO. 

8  remark,  aiid  then 

ith  people   because 
mie  time,  it  won't 

those  things  cai-e- 
issf  ul,  we  must  take 

It  is  the  minute 
B  greatest  influence 
ord  and  polite  act 
irs  hence  for  some 

JO  spend  their  time 
I  don't  mean  to  be 
ether  too  much  for 
d  wearily,  for  Jack's 
his  spiiits. 
len  he  reached  home 
t  the  scenes  he  had 
;here  was  a  special 
nmunicated  to  him. 
ich  better  than  she 
s    all    elated  at   her 

ent  of  the  past  fort- 


jL 


mm' 


SET  FREE. 


861 


night  that  memory  held  in  trust  with  lingering 
minuteness,  Grace,  who  had  listened  veiy  atten- 
tively, said  with  a  sigh  of  deep  satisfaction,  "  We 
have  had  oui*  smprises  too.  We  have  all  been 
out  to  Grassmere ;  and  only  think !  Mildred  is  not 
going  among  the  cannibals,  not  for  a  while,  any- 
way. She  is  going  to  teach  in  the  Park  Avenue 
School." 

Paul  looked  the  surprise  the  occasion  required. 
"Why,  how  did  she  get  such  an  offer?" 

"  We  are  not  sure  ourselves ;  only  have  our 
suspicions.  The  tnistees  wrote  a  few  days  ago  of- 
fering her  the  situation,  and  she  has  accepted  it." 

"It  must  be  the  Everetts." 

"  Yes,  we  believe  it  is  to  them  we  are  indebted." 

"Now  I  can  go  to  college  as  soon  as  I  am  able 
to  matriculate." 

"Will  you  need  so  much  education  to  milk  the 
cows  and  raise  potatoes  and.  chickens?"  Grace 
asked. 

"  I  shall  want  a  home  in  the  city  in  the  winter. 
I  won't  care  to  live  on  a  farm,  only  in  the  sum- 
mer," Paul  said  evasively,  for  the  life  and  activity 
had  charmed  him  as  he  came  home  through  the 
crowds  on  the  street. 


m  MILDRED  KFNT'8  HEm. 

I  am  afraid  you  are  getting  too  ambitious,  my 

son.     Not  very  many  can  afford  such  luxuries  as 

rt.     But  a  college   course  will  not  prevent  you 

making  a  good   farmer;  and  I    think    if  all    goes 

well  we  can  promise  you  that." 

"It  seems  to  me  we  are  very  lucky." 
"  I  do  not  like   the  work  lucky,  my  sen.     We 
should  rather  say,   God  has  helped  us    in   our  ef- 
forts to  help  ourselves." 

"Well,  anyway,  we  have  good  friends  on  eartu 
who  help  us." 

"  You  have  a  good  sister,  Paul.  If  Mildred  had 
become  discouraged  when  she  first  went  to  school, 
and  staid  at  home,  she  would  not  have  had  the 
chance  to  aecept  the  fine  situation  offered  her 
now;  neither  would  she  have  formed  the  charm- 
ing friendship  that  has  brought  us  all  so  much 
pleasure.  I  hope  you  will  follow  her  example 
when  you  meet  with  difficulties." 

"She  didn't  get  us  Jack  Carver  and  the  mis- 
sion-school, anyway,"  Paul  said,  with  some  tri- 
umph. It  was  not  agi-eeable  for  him  that  Mil- 
dred should  get  the  credit  of    all  their  pleasant 

happenings. 

"If  you  recall  the  circumstances  I  think  you  will 


Ent. 

too  ambitious,  my 
such  luxuries  as 
not  pre\ent  you 

think    if  all    goes 

lucky." 

ky,  my  sen.     We 
)ed  us    in  our  ef- 

d  friends  on  eartu 

il.  If  Mildred  had 
»t  went  to  school, 
aot  Lave  had  the 
lation  offered  her 
formed  the  charm- 
i  us  all  so  much 
How    her    example 


xver  and  the    mis- 
id,  with   some    tri- 
for  him  that  Mil- 
all  their  pleasant 

ces  I  think  you  will 


8ST  FREE. 


858 


find  it  was  through  her  means  we  made  Jack's 
acquaintance ;  but  let  us  forget  all  that  now,  only 
to  give  credit  where  it  is  due.  Mildred  has  helped 
us  all  to  bear  our  burdens  while  enduring  her  ow" 

silently." 

"  I  am  going  to  bear  this  family's  burdens  p^  • 

soon,"  he  said  valiantly. 

You   can  begin  at   once ;  every  day  gi-^es 
opporlimities." 

"Where  is  Mildred?"  Paul  asked,  tunu.  ^  ;he 
conversation  with  much  cheerfulness.  He  was  get- 
ting tired  of  so  much  practical  advice. 

"She  went  to  see  the  Carver  children.  They 
are  very  ill  with  scarlet  fever.  The  air  is  so  hot 
and  close  everywhere  in  the  city  now,  especially 
in  narrow  courts  and  crowded  tenements,  I  am 
afraid  some  of  them  will  die." 

"Won't  she  be  in  danger  of  catching  it,  too?" 

"  She  had  it  years  ago,  when  Grace  was  a  baby, 
I  had  you  all  sick  at  once  with  it." 

"  We  are  a  very  — "  he  paused  uncertainly  and 
then  said  —  "providential  family."  He  was  afraid 
to  use  the  word  lucky  again  in  liis  mother's  pres- 
ence. While  they  were  talking  Mildred  came  in, 
looking  pale  and  troubled. 


;„,..-..J 


864  MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

"Are  any  of  them  dead?"  Paul  asked,  after 
Mildred,    with    brightening    face,     welcomed    him 

home. 

"Yes,  two  of  them;  and,  oh,  mother!  there 
was  no  one  to  get  them  ready  for  the  coffin,  hut 
their  mother,  with  what  help  I  could  give."  Mil- 
dred   shuddered    as    she    thought    of    the    painful 

scene. 

"Why  don't  the  neighbors  help  her,  or  else  the 

undertaker?" 

"The  neighbors  are  afraid,  and  I  tlunk  they 
could  not  afford  to  hire  the  undertaker  for  every- 
thing. Jack  came  as  soon  as  he  heard  about  it. 
I  was  so  glad  to  see  him  coming.  I  was  afraid  I 
should  feel  it  my  duty  to  stay  longer ;  it  would 
be  cruel  to  leave  them  all  alone  Avith  their  dead. 
Oh,  I  wish  there  was  not  so  much  misery  in  the 
world,  or  that  I  could  forget  about  people's  sorrow 
and   need  of   help  like  otlier   girls   do,"   MUdred 

sobbed. 

"Is  it  Christ-like  to  crave  forgetfulness  of  the 
bm-dens  our  fellow-creatures  totter  under?  He 
gave  His  life  to  us.  Should  wo  not  think  it  liigh 
honor  to  be  permitted  to  follow  in  his  steps  ? " 

Mildred  wiped  her  eyes  and  looked  out  over  the 


immm 


fERO. 

Paul    asked,   after 
5,     welcomed    him 

>h,  mother !  there 
for  the  coflfin,  but 
could  give."  Mil- 
it    of    the    painful 

)lp  her,  or  else  the 

and  I  tliink  they 
dertaker  for  every- 
iie  heard  about  it. 
ng.  I  was  afraid  I 
ly  longer;  it  would 
ne  Avith  their  dead, 
iiuch  misery  in  the 
(out  people's  sorrow 
girls   do,"   Mildred 

forgetfulness  of  the 
totter    under?      He 
7C  not  think  it  liigh 
V  in  his  steps?" 
looked  out  over  the 


BET  F»Ett, 


8A5 


dust  and  unrest  of  the  huge  city  to  the  sky  flecked 
with  light  summer  clouds.  How  pure  and  serene 
it  seemed  in  contrast. 

"I  am  glad  those  two  little  creatures  are  free 
from  their  suffering.  What  a  change  for  them,  from 
the  burning  fever  and  stifling  room  to  the  green 
fields  of  Paradise !  I  am  so  glad  God  takes  such 
numbers    of  little   ones   from   the  city's  slums." 

"It  seems  to  me,  Mildred,  that  you  thank  the 
Loi-d  for  nearly  everything,"  Paul  said,  as  if  just 
awakening  to  the  fact  tliat  she  generally  found 
some  rare  bit  of  blue  in  all  sorts  of  skies.  At 
least  she  realized  that  behind  all  clouds  and  storms 
the  skies  were  still  shining  and  she  drew  her 
light  from  depths  infinitely  removed  from  the 
mists  and  vapors  that  cloud  too  often  the  view  of 
average  folks.  It  is  a  grand  experience  to  dwell 
always  in  those  still  places;  but  only  those  attain 
them  whose  thoughts  are  wide  and  high  enough  to 
grasp  eternal  things. 

Mrs.  Kent  replied  to  Paul's  remark:  "If  we 
keep  close  to  God  we  shall  be  able  always  to 
thank  Him  for  what  He  gives  us.  St.  Paul  had 
that  experience.  I  ask  for  nothing  higher  for  my 
children." 


■\ 


i'i 

I 


MILDRED  KEST'B  HEM. 

"I  wonder  why  it  is  so  difficult  for  people  to 
trust  their  interests  in  God's  hands:  there  are  so 
few  that  really  do  it,"  Mildred  said;  and  then, 
after  a  moment's  reflection,  added,  "  We  may  for 
a  while,  in  some  uplifted  moments ;  but  afterwards 
we  are  troubled  and  i)erplexed.  I  wonder  God  is 
tto  patient  with  us." 

»»I  believe  that  is  a  mystery  to  all  xran;  but 
for  His  imtience,  the  Adamic  type  would  have 
been  destroyed  long  ago,  and  some  better  one 
dwelling  in  our  places  to^ay.  But  our  conversa- 
tion is  getting  too  visionary.  It  is  useless  specu- 
kting  on  subjects  so  far  out  of  range  of  our 
experience  or  possibility  to  understand,"  her  mo- 
ther replied. 

"  I  think  Mildred  is  a  good  deal  given  that  way ; 
but  still  I  missed  her  sometimes  when  I  heard 
voices  and  saw  things  I  couldn't  explain  the  mean- 
ing of  out  in  the  country,"  Paul  said. 

"You  wanted  me  there  to  label  your  emotions," 
Mildred  said  humorously;  then  getting  her  draw- 
ing nwterials,  she  sat  down  to  sketch  from  memory 
the  two  little  forms  so  soon  so  be  shut  out  from 
the  sunshine. 

"  Mrs.  Carver  will  like  to  have  them  to  look  at 


'■\ 


tito. 

lit  for  people  to 
ids:  there  are  so 
Haid;  and  then, 
1,  "  We  may  for 
\B ;  but  afterwards 
I  wonder  Ood  is 


^ 


■•fpp'*' 


■P9P! 


iST  FMEK. 


857 


after  they  are  buried  from  her  sight,"  she  said  to 
her  mother.  Paul  and  Grace  watched  with  consid- 
erable solemnity  as  the  two  little  faces  and  rigid 
forms  came  out  with  vivid  reality  on  the  paper. 


to  all  Iran;  but 
type   would   have 

Horae  better  one 
But  our  conversa- 
;  is  useless  specu- 

of  range  of  our 
erstand,"  her  mo- 

al  given  that  way ; 
les  when   I   heard 
explain  the  mean- 
.  said. 

b1  your  emotions," 
getting  her  draw- 
Letch  from  memory 
be  shut  out  from 

e  them  to  look  at 


--1 


.i-irta(5S&^\^/' 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


PLEASANT   PICTUBBS. 


yrdW  ILDRteD'S  duties  as  teacher  were  to  begin 
V3IM       tl»e  following  week,    and  it  would  be  no 
J^A  longer  safe  for  her   to    visit   the   fevei> 

stricken  i-ooms  where  the  Carver's  lived.  She  took 
her  sketch  of  the  two  little  ones  to  Mra.  Carver,  whose 
surpiise  at  the  excellence  of  the  likeness  was  only 
equaled  by  her  gratification  at  liaving  something 
tangible  to  recall  their  memory.  The  hard  lines  of 
of  her  face  gi-ew  soft  as  she  Aviped  the  tears  away, 
while  giwing  at  her  lost  darlings  pictured  before 
her.  Mildred  bade  her  good-bye,  explaining  why 
she  covld  not  come  again.  Mrs.  Carver  bewailed 
the  loss  of  her  one  friend  in  need,  — her  face  as- 
suming its  natural  oppression  while  she   expatiated 


368 


X. 


XES. 


acher  were  to  begin 
and  it  would  be  no 
to    visit   the   fever- 
r'a  lived.     She  took 
I  Mrs.  Carver,  whose 
3  likeness  was  only 
ImAdng   something 
The  hard  lines  of 
iped  the  tears  away, 
igs    pictured   before 
•ye,  explaining   why 
rs.  Carver  bewailed 
need,  —  her   face  as- 
trhile  she  expatiated 


PLEASANT  PICTURES. 


359 


on  the  ingratitude  of  some  of  her  neighbors,  more 
especially  the  Joneses,  whom  she  had  succored  in 
seasons  of  affliction. 

"  It's  all  that  Betsy's  fault.  She's  gettin'  so  stuck 
up  she'll  try  to  make  out  the  old  man  is  somethin' 
moie'n  a  cobbler ;  but  bless  you !  he  couldn't  make 
a  pair  of  boots  to  save  his  neck." 

'♦Is  mending  shoes  not  as  respectable  as  making 
them  or  wearing  them  ?  It  all  amounts  to  the  same 
thing;  labor  of  any  kind  is  honorable." 

"Ah,  miss,  few  folks  look  on  things  like  you  do. 
It  would  be  a  more  comfortabler  world  if  they  did. 
My  old  man  says  you've  made  him  realize  religion 
better'n  all  the  preachers  in  the  city.  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  he'd  perfess  and  jine  your  church.  He 
says  he's  bound  to  go  where  you  do  when  he  quits 
this  world." 

"When  death  comes  it  softeire  our  hearts,  but 
we  soon  forget  the  lessons  it  brings."  Mrs.  Carver 
did  not  reply  ;  it  was  painful  for  her  to  linger  long 
in  a  tender  mood,  gentleness  and  thoughts  of  death 
and  the  soub  were  alien  to  her  nature;  but  she 
was  a  great  worker,  and  so  was  not  utterly  desti- 
tute of  worth  of  chamcter. 

As  Mildred  left  she  wondered  if  it  were  possible 


■^ 


sa^aUitiik'uAum'^vm^s^ns^^'V!^' 


7    \ 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO, 

for  Mrs.  Carver's  nature  to  be  elevated  by  the  re- 
ligion of  which  she  talked  so  flippantly.  She  met 
Jack  a  few  steps  from  the  door.  "  Have  you  been 
there?"     His  face  lighted  up  at  sight  of  her. 

"Yes." 

"It  is  extremely  good  of  you.  I  should  not  go 
there  if  it  wasn't  for  my  father." 

"I  wonder  if  she  is  not  as  God  made  her?" 

"Certainly  not.  It  is  true  God  made  snakes 
and  lizards  as  a  species  of  scavengers  in  creation, 
but  their  counterparts  among  human  beings  are  only 
to  blame,  or  their  parents  before  them,  for  being 
as  they  are." 

"  Pray,  what  evolutionist  has  taught  you  that  ?  " 

"None  in  particular;  but  I  have  been  studying 
the  matter  up,  and  am  learning  how  to  account  for 
a  good  many  of  nature's  queer  productions." 

"I  imagine  your  new  philosophy  shifts  a  good 
deal  of  the  blame  for  our  own  defects  to  our  own 
shoulders." 

"Yes,  T  should  be  a  fatalist  if  I  did  not  think 
we  were  in  fault  ourselves  for  our  wrong-doing,  or 
that  oui-  environment  and  parents  had  a  share  of 
the  blame." 

"Then  I  hope  you  will  show  us   what  possibili- 


—    r  \ 


P 


BERO. 

levated  by  the   re- 
ppantly.    She  met 
"  Have  you  been 
■j  sight  of  her. 

I  should  not  go 

od  made  her?" 
God    made   snakes 
rengers  in  creation, 
nan  beings  are  only 
:e    them,  for   being 

taught  you  that  ?  " 
ave  been  studying 
how  to  account  for 
productions." 
ophy  shifts  a  good 
defects  to  our  own 

if  I  did  not  think 
our  wrong-doing,  or 
mts   had  a  share  of 

f  us   what  possibili- 


PLKABAST  PICTURES.  361 

ties  are  within  reach  of  a  resolute  soul  bent  on  its 
own  uplifting." 

"I  will  do  my  best." 

Mildi-ed  said  good-bye,  and  Jack  went  into  the 
house  to  find  that  his  stepmother  had  been  watch- 
ing them  from  the  window. 

"  Well,  do  you  think  that  girl  '11  ever  marry  the 
likes  of  you?"  * 

He  gave  her  a  look  that  would  have  warned  a 
wiser  woman,  but  she  only  laughed  scornfully. 

"I  did  not  come  here  to  discuss  that  question 
with  you,  nor  to  ask  your  advice." 

"Well,  I  can  tell  you,  whether  you  want  my 
advice  or  not,  she'll  never  have  anything  to  say  to 
you." 

"  I  could  not  blame  her,  seeing  what  connections 
I  have,"  he  said,  with  a  sternness  that  warned  her 
to  say  no  more.  "Tell  father  to  come  to  my 
rooms  as  soon  as  he  gets  home." 

"You  can  deliver  your  own  messages.  I've  been 
your  servant  long  enougli,"  she  muttered,  too  angry 
to  try  and  make  the  peace  she  had  so  ruthlessly 
broken,  although  she  well  knew  it  was  worse  than 
folly  to  quarrel  with  him  now  that  he  was  in  a 
position  to  be  a  good  deal  of  help  to  them.     Jack 


362 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


left,  shutting  the  door  with  unnecessary  vigor  be- 
hind him,  the  light  all  gone  from  his  face  that 
the  interchange  of  ideas  with  Mildred  had  brought, 
and  he  walked  along  moodily,  wondenng  if  it  was 
any  use  for  him,  with  such  relations,  to  tiy  to  be 
anything.  He  quickened  his  pace,  thinking  to 
overtake  Mildred  and  tell  his  troubles.  •  She  always 
soothed  his  heart-aches;  but  afte^  a  brisk  walk  he 
saw,  some  distance  off,  a  carriage  stop,  when  Doug- 
lass Everett  sprang  out  and  greeted  Mildred.  Mrs. 
Everett  and  the  Lady  Alicia  tvere  in  the  carriage. 
Jack  lingered  in  a  doorway  watching  the  group, 
for  Mildred  had  gone  to  the  carriage  and  was 
standing  beside  Mrs.  Everett,  who  held  her  liand 
with  a  cordiality  that  was  awakening  pangs  of  jeal- 
ousy in  two  of  Mildred's  old  schoolmates^  who, 
like  Jack,  were  watching  the  distinguished  Grass- 
mere  party.  Presently  Mildred  entered  the  car- 
riage, and  taking  the  vacant  »eat  beside  Douglass, 
was  carried  out  of  their  sight  with  a  very  contentr 
ed  expression  on  her  face,  which  Beth  and  Connie 
did  not  fail  to  observe  its  she  drove  past  them. 

"It  is  just  ridiculous  the  way  the  Everetts  pat- 
ronize that  girl,"  Connie  said  indignantly.  "They 
won't  notice  people  worth  their  hundreds  of   thou- 


.  /^"^fe„ 


'"    -  ■  1 


ERO. 

eceasary  vigor  be- 
rom  his  face  that 
dred  had  brought, 
ondering  if  it  was 
ions,  to  tiy  to  be 
pace,  thinkuig  to 
ubles.  .  She  always 
>r'a  brisk  walk  he 

stop,  when  Dougf- 
)ted  Mildred.  Mrs. 
sre  in  the  carriage, 
itching   the   group, 

carriage  and  was 
vho  held  her  liand 
suing  pangs  of  jeal- 

Bchoolmatesv  who, 
iistinguished  Grass- 
1   entered    the    car- 
,at  beside  Douglass, 
with  a  very  contentr 
A\  Beth  and  Connie 
drove  past  them, 
ly  the  Everetts  pat- 
indignantly.     "They 
r  hundreds  of   thou- 


../^ 


PLEASANT  PICTUREB. 


868 


sands,  who  live  in  elegant  houses,  but  can't  pass 
her  on  tlie  street  without  gushing  over  her  as  if 
she  were  a  duchess.  I  am  so  glad  that  Douglass 
is  going  to  many  tliat  Lady  Alicia  Merton." 

"Why  so?"  Beth  asked. 

"  Because  he  can't  many  Mildred.  He  was  look- 
ing at  her  just  now,  though,  in  a  way  I  would 
not  want  the  man  I  was  engaged  to  be  manied  to 
some  day,  to  look  at  a  pretty  girl.  If  Mildred  is 
poor,  and  her  mother  a  di-essmaker,  she  is  every 
bit    as    beautiful    as    any  of    those   English   heir- 


"I  am  going  to  call  on  Mildred.  She  always 
made  roe  feel  better  when  I  was  with  her,  and 
made  me  wish  to  be  good.  I  don't  remember  any- 
thing in  our  school  days  pleasanter  than  going  to 
her  place,  listening  to  her  stories  and  taking  i  i; 
in  her  make-belioves..  I  wish,  Connie,  we  had  c 
her  be  fnends  with  us.  I  know  she  liked  us  id 
wanted  to  be  fiiendly,"  Beth's  voice  trembled 

"  That  was  all  there  was  to  be  gained  in  1  lug 
her  for  a  friend." 

"Why,  no,  indeed,  Connie.  She  got  i  twice 
to  Grassmere,  and  I  am  sure  we  have  boasted 
about  that  ever  since,  without  acknowledging  how 
we  came  to  go  there." 


.-.^...  (.=(»«*»■  ", 


864 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


Ww 


"I  expect  you  will  di-op  all  your  old  friends 
after  you  get  inamate  with  her  again,"  Connie  said, 

coldly. 

"  Mildred  is  not  that  sort  of  girl ;  I  used  to  like 
all  of  you  better  when  I  was  with  her.  She  used 
to  make  one  feel  friendly  with  aU  the  world. 

"She  will  get  you  more  invitations  to  Grassmere. 
It  will  pt>y  you  to    go   and  eat  humble  pie  with 

her." 

"I  shall  not  seek  her  friendship  for  anything 
so  mean  as  that;  but  ever  since  I  heard  her  es- 
say I  have  wanted  to  be  like  her.  Connie,  I 
would  be  willing  to  be  poor  and  have  to  earn  my 
own  living,  if  I  could  have  her  mind." 

"I  am  afraid  you  are  getting  reUgious;  then  we 
cannot  be  friends  any  more,  — not  as  we  have 
been,  anyway,"  Connie  said,  anxiously. 

"My  religion  won't  interfere  with  our  friendship, 
I  can  assure  you ;  but  reaUy,  I  never  thought  be- 
fore that  it  was  religion  that  made  her  so  different 
from  any  one  we  know." 

"Why  don't  you  call  anyone  else  that  we  are 
acquainted  with  religious?" 

"  Really,  Connie,  I  do  not  see  any  difference  in 
any  one   of  our  friends  such  as  being   real  Chris- 


EM. 

I  your  old   friends 
igain,"  Connie  said, 

f'vc\  X  I  used  to  like 
dth  her.     She  used 
all  the  world." 
btions  to  Grassmere. 
lat  humble  pie  with 

adship  for  anything 
nee  I  heard  her  e»- 
ke  her.  Connie,  I 
id  have  to  earn  my 

mind." 

J  religious ;  then  we 
—  not  as   we    have 
ixiously. 
)  with  our  friendship, 

I  never  thought  be- 
made  her  so  different 

ne  else  that  we  are 

see  any  difference   in 
as  being   real  Chris- 


PLEASANT  PICTURES. 


365 


tians  ought  to  make.  I  believe  if  a  whole  crowd 
of  us  were  dropped  on  a  heathen  shore,  we  could 
not  among  us  all  teach  the  people  how  to  be  fit 
for  heaven."  Beth  laughed  nervously.  Probably 
she  had  never  given  the  subject  of  religion  so  se- 
rious thought  before.  Connie  was  getting  nervous 
too.  She  never  found  religious  conversation  com- 
forting, even  in  childhood,  when  Mildred  was  in 
the  habit  of  discussing  such  topics.  Ho^^ever,  they 
agreed  to  call  in  company  on  Mildred  it:  many 
days,  and  try  to  regain  their  lost  footing  in  her 
friendship.  But  Mildred,  as  she  rode  along  towards 
Grassmere  that  day,  had  no  thought  of  Beth  and 
Connie.  Other  fancies  were  crowding  her  brain ; 
but  the  underlying  thought  of  all  was,  "  Could  it  be 
possible  that  the  little  Carvers,  recently  set  free 
from  the  noisy  tenement  and  stifling  court,  were 
looking  on  fairer  scenes  than  these  ?  "  Mrs.  Everett, 
noticing  her  intent  look,  said:  "A  penny  for  your 
thoughts.  They  must  be  pleasant  from  the  look  on 
your  face." 

"A  penny  would  be  a  poor  exchange,"  Doug- 
lass answered  for  Mildred,  as  he  watched  the  rose- 
leaf  tint  deepen  in  the  sensitive  face. 

"Were  you  thinking  of  Grassmere?    When   we 


-    X 


h   ■ 

%  1, 


I  '■• 


MILDRED  k£ItT8  BERO. 


knew  you   long  ago,  it  seemed  to  occupy  more  of 
your  thoughts  than  other  things." 

"It  was  of  two  little  children  who  have  just 
died  in  a  crowded  tenement.  They  hardly  knew 
the  taste  of  pure  air  — never  such  perfumed  air  as 
this,"  she  said,  with  a  long  inhalation.  "  I  have 
been  speculating  if  they  are  findmg  heaven  more 
perfect  than  this.  If  they  do  I  am  so  glad  they 
have  escaped  to  it." 

"What  an  odd  ideal"  Lady  Alicia  said.  "I 
never  thought  of  heaven  as  being  a  place  — cer- 
tainly not  like  any  I  ever  shall  see  on  earth." 

"I  always  think  of  heaven  as  something  like 
Grassmere  —  the  flowers  and  pictures  and  music. 
But  I  can  never  conceive  of  myself  as  enjoying  it 
continually,  without  having  to  look  after  the  sick 
and  desolate.  To  have  no  such  duties  would  be 
one  of  the  gieat  joys  of  heaven,"  Mildred  said  tim- 

»  Why,  are  you  compelled  to  care  for  them  now  ? 
her  ladyship  asked,  arcliing  her  fine  eyebrows. 

"We  are  surrounded  by  poor  people  and  sick 
children,  and  we  must  do  all  we  can  to  help 
them,"  Mildred  said,  as  seriously  as  if  to  help 
othere  were,  without  question,  a  part  of  her  daily 
task. 


—     -    X 


y 


ERO. 

to  occupy  more  of 

•en  who  have  just 
rhey  hardly  knew 
ich  perfumed  air  as 
lialation.  "I  have 
iding  heaven  more 
I  am  so  glad   they 

y  Alicia  said.  "I 
sing  a  place  —  cer- 
L  see  on  earth." 

as  something  like 
jicturea  and  music, 
lyself  as  enjojring  it 

look  after  the  sick 
ch  duties  would  be 
n,"  Mildred  said  tim- 

care  for  them  now  ?  " 
r  fine  eyebrows. 
)or  people  and  sick 
all  we  can  to  help 
iously  as  if  to  help 
,  a  part  of  her  daily 


PLEASANT  PICTVREB. 


887 


"You  should  come  to  England  and  marry  a 
clergjrman :  your  husband's  parishioners  would  soon 
style  you  Lady  Bountiful." 

Mildred's  face  flushed,  but  she  said  gently: 
"There  is  no  need  to  cross  the  ocean  to  be  help- 
ful to  the  poor  —  we  have  too  many  neglected 
ones  here." 

The  carriage  had  reached  the  door,  but  when 
they  alighted  Mildred  was  in  no  haste  to  enter 
the  house;  the  picture  that  filled  eyes  and  heart 
all  around  was  too  fair  to  pass  hastily  in  order  to 
look  at  the  picture  just  come  across  the  seas  which 
Mrs.  Everett  had  insisted  on  her  coming  out  di- 
rectly to  see. 

"It  is  discouragirg  to  look  at,"  she  said  to 
Douglass,  who  lingered  at  her  side  after  the  others 
had  gone  in." 

"Why  so?"  , 

"No  artist  could  do  it  justice,  at  least,  not  in 
this  world.  After  centuries  of  near  companionship 
with  God,  Raphael  might  be  able  to  do  it  justice  ; 
but  the  birds  and  bees  and  perfumes  would  be  lack- 
ing, —  and  the  life,"  she  added  sadly. 

"I  do  not  think  anything  will  satisfy  you,  Mil- 
dred, short  of  the  power  to  create,  not  merely  copy 
with  materials  all  provided." 


4i.i»in 


MILDRKD  KENT'S  HERO. 

"Oh,  no;  but  it  Beems  to  me  we  can  do  nothing 
higher  than  to  think  God's  thoughts— not  tiy  to 
materialize  them  with  brush  and  paint' 

"Are  you  losing  your  passion  for  art?' 

» Not  when  I  am  shut  in  with  brick  and  stone ; 
but  out  hex«  I  get  so  discouraged,  —  to  reproduce 
that  scene  seems  like  a  caricature.  Men  must  dis- 
cover something  besides  i)aint  and  oil  to  imitate 
ti-uly  that  atmosphere  and  those  superb  distances." 
She  stretched  her  hand  to  the  west,  already  flush- 
ing with  the  sunset's   glow. 

She  had  forgotten  her  errand,  standing  there 
with  that  look  of  rare  content  on  her  face,  that 
Douglass  remembered  of  old. 

"  Don't  you  think  one  gets  tfUmpses  now  and 
then  of  other  worlds  than  this?"  she  asked  after  a 
pause.  "  I  seem  to  have  done  so  to-day  in  thinking 
of  those  little  children.  I  could  almost  fancy  I 
saw  them  straying  among  the  flowers  and  music  of 
Paradise.  But  you  did  not  know  I  had  come  from 
there,"  she  said,  seized  Wh  a  sudden  anxiety. 
«  How  terribly  forgetful  I  have  been  !  Those  chil- 
dren died  of  scarlet  fever."  Her  face  was  as  white 
as  one  of  the  white  lilies  at  her  feet,  when  she 
looked   up   at  him.      "It    would    be    a   thousand 


KKO. 

we  can  do  nothing 
ghts — not  tiy  to 

paint." 

for  art?" 

1  brick  and  stone; 
ad,  —  to  reproduce 
«.  Men  must  dis- 
and  oil  to  imitate 

superb  distances." 
ivest,  already  flush- 
id,   standing    there 

on  her   face,  that 

(glimpses  now  and 
"  she  asked  after  a 

to-day  in  thinking 
Id  almost  fancy  I 
lowers  and  music  of 
)w  I  had  come  from 
a   sudden  anxiety. 

been !  Those  chil- 
sr  face  was  as  white 
her  feet,  when  she 
lid    be    a   thousand 


PLEASANT  PICTVREa. 


369 


deaths  to  me  if  I  brought   death    to    Orassmere  — 
to  you?"  she  munnured. 

He  was  looking  down   at  her   so  steadily  that 
her   fears    increased.     "Are  you   very  angry  with 
"  she  asked. 


me 


"  I  do  not  think  I  could  be  angry  with  you, 
Mildi-ed,  not  even  if  you  brought  me  face  to  face 
with  death ;  but  do  not  be  alarmed.  I  have  ex- 
perienced all  the  burnings  of  scarlet  fever,  I  im- 
agine, since  my  mother  thought  in  my  babyhood 
it  would  leave  her  childless." 

They  entered  the  house  then,  Douglass  leading 
the  way  to  the  drawing-room,  where  the  picture 
was  hanging.  Mildred  stopped  abruptly ;  for  there 
looking  down  at  her  was  her  own  self,  as  she 
had  looked  that  first  day  she  came  to  Grassmere, 
while  standing  with  timid  awe  at  the  threshold. 
She  stood  now,  looking  up  with  parted  lips,  the 
color  deepening  in  her  cheek. 

"Do  you  recognize  the  portrait?" 

"  Yes,  it  is  my  child-self  —  but  idealized,  made 
beautiful. " 

"My  mother  considers  it  a  very  true  likeness." 

"Was  it  your  mother's  son  who  painted  it? 
Allow  me  to  compliment  the  artist."  She  turned 
to  him,  seeing  he  did  not  answer  her  question. 


"-MSKtfy„**fc^a5^ 


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Microfiche 

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Collection  de 
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■.mmmmmmki.i,. 


T^iti'ifcBHiaa  ig  n.>>w^ww-ft*''**^ 


-, — »^'T-  '.";j;«ti'<>y'," 


370 


MILDRED  KENT '8  HERO. 


«I  can  take  but  Utile  credit  myself.    A  genuine 

artist  finished  it  for  me." 

uBut  did  he  ever  see   that   little    girl   standing 

there?" 

"Only  through  my  eyes." 

«I  shall  not  give  the  foreign  artist  any  credit 
then ;  but  I  should  thank  you  for  the  honor  you 
have  done  me.  It  will  be  pleasant  to  think  of  always 
being  here.  I  can  easily  fancy  that  littie  girl  en- 
ioys  standing  here  amid  all  this  beauty." 

uYou  have  a  peculiar  faculty  of   individualmng 

yourself." 

ult  is  difficult  to  realize  myself  the  very  same 
all  through  these  years, -first  child,  then  girl, 
and  now  woman." 

"Scarcely  woman  yet,  is  it?" 
»  At  least  a  wagc-eamen" 

Mrs.  Everett  entered  the  room  and  came  to  her 
side.  "How  do  you  like  our  picture?  Do  you 
know  it  has  been  honored  with  a  place  in  the  Pans 

Salon?"  „     ^_.,,     , 

"  Then  my  criticism  will  be  valueless.'      Mildred 

was  getting  nervous,  and  felt  dangerously  like  c^- 

ing     It'brought  much  the  same  sensation  that  she 

felt  after  Heading  her  essay.    Lady  Alicia  joined  the 


fseli.    A  genuine 
le    girl   standing 


artist   any  credit 

r    the  honor  you 

X)  think  of  always 

lat   little  girl  en- 

)eauty." 

)f   individualizing 

If   the  very  same 
child,   then   girl, 


and  came  to  her 

picture?   Do   you 

I  place  in  the  Paris 

ulueless."  Mildred 
ingerously  like  cry- 
)  sensation  that  she 
dy  Alicia  joined  the 


FLEA8AST  PICTURES.  871 

group.  "Some  faces  remind  me  of  animals  or 
birds;  but  that  face  looks  Uke  some  flower,"  she 
said,  regarding  the  picture  critically. 

"  That  is  a  fine  compliment,  MUdred,"  Mrs.  Ev- 
erett said. 

"Flowers  are  not  so  high  in  the  scale  of  creation 
as  beasts  or  birds;  far  less  complex  and  lacking  the 
touch  of  nature  by  which  all  animals  are  allied  in 
a  sort  of  brotherhood  from  man  downwards." 

"You  would  rather  resemble  some  fine  animal, 
then,  than  the  most  perfect  flower?"  Lady  Alicia 

asked. 

"The  soul  that  looked  at  you  from  my  face  — 
yes.  I  can  trace  a  likeness  to  man  in  your  collie," 
she  said,  turning  to  Douglass,  "a  likeness  to  God  in 
Ralph's  master." 

"  I  never  knew  a  young  girl  who  always  went 
so  deep  into  every  subject.  To  think  your  thoughts 
would  weary  me,"  her  ladyship  said,  as  she  strolled 
to  the  other  side  of  the  room  and  sat  down  at  the 
piano.  Douglass  joined  her  presentiy,  leaving  Mil- 
dred and  Mre.  Everett  standing  by  the  picture. 

"She  should  have  exquisite  thoughts  if  her  mind 
is  as  perfect  as  her  body,"  Mildred  remarked,  with 
a  wistful  look  as  she  regarded  tiie  pair*  by  the 
piano. 


P  -^7'-  v,r^-.-''V-^-i''jt^  -■ 


r- 


372 


MILDRED  KEST'B  HERO. 

«  She  is  very  lovely,  but  has  not  the  high  thoughte 
^t  my  own  Utile  girl  here  has."  M«.  Everett 
touched  the  thoughtful  brow  lovingly. 

.She  has  so  many  other  things  she  does  not 
need  to  think;  but  intellect  among  high  and  low 
i«  the  stamp,  though  flesh  and  blood  may  differ. 

«Ah,  you  still  brood  over  that  unfortunate  re- 
niark;  but  Lady  Alicia  is  not  like  her  sister.  As 
you    know    more    of    her    you    wiU    love   her   as 

we   do.  , 

«WiU  Bhe    Uve    .t    Gra«ioew    after   the  ma- 

Tjlgla^  to  strn  t»o  young  to  think  seriouely 
of  marige  for  «.me  year..  With  boft  of  them  a 
d„„,ge  of  faney  may  take  place ;  but  they  eeem 
strongly  attached  at  present." 

Mild.*d  watched  them  IntenUy  for  a  while,  and 
ften  eald  «th  a  Uttle  sigh,  -  whether  of   content 
at  the  sight  or  longing  to  have  some   such  ,oy  of 
her  own  one  could  not  decide  from  her  espressjo,. 
„I  am  not   surprised  Ihat   they  love    each   other 
I  wonder  if  there  are  such  beautiful  creat««,  and 
pleasant  happenings  in  the  other  planers   and  s^ 
tome?     There  are  a  great  many  dehghful  thmgs  m 
ftis  litUe  planet.     What  «=ene.  God   overlooks  ev- 
ery  day." 


--1 


PLEASANT  PICTURES. 


878 


high  thoughts 
Mrs.   Everett 

she    does    not 

high   and   low 

d  may  differ." 

unfortunate   re- 

her   sister.     As 

ill    love   her   as 

after    the   mar- 
think    seriously 
L  both  of  them  a 
;  but  they   seem 

for  a  while,  and 
ether  of  content 
ome  such  joy  of 
d  her  expression, 
ove  each  other. 
!ul  creatures  and 
planets  and  sys- 
slighful  things  in 
od   overlooks  ev- 


•*  Mildred,  you  must  be  a  changeling.  You  were 
originally  intended  for  the  Sun  or  Sinus.  Your 
thoughts  go  ranging  in  such  high  altitudes." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  am  altogether  an  earth-maiden ;  be- 
cause  I  think  of  these  things  is  that  I  have  been 
so  much  alone."  Mildred  looked  pained. 

"Then  the  solitary  confinement  of  youth  gener- 
ally might  develop  a  better  race  of  thinkers ;  but 
I  believe,  to  spea^  in  earnest,  that  our  young  peo- 
ple are  amused  and  assisted  more  than  will  be 
likely  to  produce  a  race  of  intellectual  giants." 

"It  is  very  gratifying,  no  doubt,  to  be  happily 
situated  and  have  abundance  of  leisure,  with  money 
and  friends,  but  one  may  be  stronger  to  endure 
life  if  they  have  a  limitation  of  these.  I  like  to 
think  that  all  my  allotments  are  planned  a  little 
ahead  for  me   by  a  higher  than   human   wisdom." 

"  Do  you  not  find  difficulty  in  believing  that  ?  " 

"I  do  not  find  it  impossible." 

Lady  Alicia  began  to  play.  The  music  was  a 
revelation  to  Mildred,  and  touched  a  chord  in  her 
heart  that  perhaps  had  never  before  responded  to 
human  things.     "What  is  it?"  she  asked. 

"A  passage  from  Lohengrin.  Have  you  never 
heard  it  before?" 


874  MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

.  I  have   never    heard  any   classic   music,    save 
what  you  have  played  for  me." 

uThen  I  shall  enjoy  your  raptare  when  you 
hear  Wagner  and  Beethoven  properly  rendered. 
You  must  go  with  us  to  O^e  concert  to-morrow 
evening.    There  is  to  be  some  good  music  there. 

.1  am  afraid  you  wUl  ruin  me  altogether  for 
W,  practical  life,  giving  me  such  glimpses  of 
what  will  be  the  impossible  for  me.  ^  ^>^«  ^*' 
erto  been  content,  lacking  ^.  knowled^  &a  there 
were  such  harmonies  in  this  world.  I  do  not  tiunk 
I  can  be  henceforth." 

-Nor  ne.d  you  b..    Snch  mmio  mU  be  qmte 
withto  ««>h  ot  your  poedbame.,  with  ooneert,  and 
oto  mudcal  eBtertoinmento  frequentty  oooumng. 
"Are  they  not  very  eipensiyo?" 
uKo,  indeed,  eepeotaUy  Uie  rehe««.a^  whieh  are 
„  good  »  any.    But  you  -hdl  go  with  me  when- 

ever  you  wish." 

Mildred  m«rmn«d  her  thanto,  and  then  «A 
listening  <«  Lady  Alicia  ptayed  on.  while  .he  thought 
„t  the  luree,  for  enjoyment  th.  rieh  and  cultured 


^ 


c   music,    save 


ure   when   you 
perly   rendered.  - 
Lcert   to-morrow 
I  music  there." 

altogether  for 
ch  glimpses  of 
,.  I  have  hith- 
rledge  ih&t  there 

I  do  not  think 

ic  mil  he  quite 
nth  concerts  and 
ently  occurring." 

»> 

jarsals,  which  are 
o  with  me  when- 

j,  and  then  sat 
while  she  thought 
rich  and  cultured 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

visrroB. 

ILDRED  started  for  her  school  the  day 
it  opened,  more  anxious  than  on  that 
-u.  morning  years  before,  when  first  she  en- 
tered  its  doore.  Paul  and  Grace  accompanied  her, 
__Paul  with  resolute  face,  deteitnined  to  begin  the 
college  career  Jxat  was  t«  lead  to  an  office  in  the 
city  and  a  country  residence,  with  cows  and  hens 

of  his  own. 

Mildred's  anxieties  abated  as  the  day  wore  on. 
Children,  as  a  rule,  are  everywhere  more  mflu- 
enced  by  gendeness  than  by  the  other  extreme, 
and  the  Park  Avenue  flock  m  her  charge  were 
no  exception.  As  the  days  wore  into  months,  she 
found  that  the  best  way  to  gain  control  of  her 

875 


/'x 


■ .  .^«gR^oijTWf»"--''™r'-~ 


'1 


376  MILDRED    KESrB    HERO. 

pupils  was  to  have   her  own   nature  in    thorough 
control.     Hence  nhe  discovered  that  wliat  she  had 
expected  would  be  her  most  formidable  task,  was 
really  her  lightest.     She  found  her  greatest  joy  in 
awakening  and  developing  the  intellectual  faculties 
of  the  members   of  her  little  ohiss.    She  was   too 
original  in    her    modes  of    thought   and  work   to 
follow  rules  framed  altogether  by  others,  so  tlmt 
class-room  No.   6   was    conducted   differently  from 
any  previously   in  operation  there.      Teacher  and 
chUdren   went    out   on    little  excursions   of    their 
own  which  were  not  set   down  in   tlie   text-books. 
Not  content  herself  to  slip  along  the   surface   of 
problems   that    confronted    each   onward  step,   she 
trained  her  scholars  to  ponder  for  themselves   the 
reason  of  things.     With   her    vivid   sense    of    the 
greater  importance   of  the  other  life,  she   tried  to 
impress   on  the   plastic   minds  of  her  charges  the 
grandeur,  as  well  as  the  security,  of  living  Avxsely 
in  i-egard  to  the   eternal  state.     Her  lessons   were 
in  many  cases  repeated  in  homes   where   religious 
questions  were  as  carefully  avoided  as   the  small- 
pox; but  her  unusual  cleverness  in  awakening  the 
dormant  faculties  of   chUdhood   condoned   this   (rf- 
fence    against    the    proprieties    of   school    metixod. 


to. 

re   in    thorough 

t  wliat  she  had 

idable  task,   was 

r  greatest  joy  in 

ellectual  faculties 

s.     She  was   too 

it    and   work    to 

r  others,   so   tliat 

differently  from 

e.      Teacher   and 

}ur8ions   of    their 

n   tlie    text-books. 

g   the   surface   of 

onward  step,   she 

>r  themselves   the 

fid   sense    of    the 

life,  she   tried  to 

her  charges   the 

,  of  living  Avisely 

Her  lessons   were 

I    where    religious 

ed  as   the   small- 

n  awakening  the 

ondoned    this   of- 

'   school    method. 


A   VISITOR. 


877 


Some  of  her  pupils,  she  discovered,  knew  as  little 
about  revealed  religion  as  so  many  young  Pata- 
gonians.  Until  she  could  begin  mission  work 
m  real  earnest  she  resolved  to  take  advantage  of 
whatever  opportunities   came   in  her  way. 

Being  now  a  wage-earner,  she  felt  herself  rich 
enough  to  take  lessons  in  painting  from  one  of  the 
best  art-teachers  in  the  city.  The  class  was  large 
and  select;  but  Mildred  was  so  accustomed  to  sol- 
itary work,  that  she  did  not  seek  recognition  from 
anyone,  but  took  her  place  each  Saturday  at  her 
easel,  soon  growing  so  absorbed  that  tlie  presence 
of  others  was  scarcely  heeded. 

The  teacher  vras  a  dissatisfied-looking  individual, 
with  few  words  of  praise  in  proportion  to  die 
faults  he  found ;  but  he  was  growing  interested  in 
the  shy  gui  who  came  and  went  almost  as  noise- 
lessly as  the  sunshine,  and  whose  work  left  him  so 
little  chance  for  criticism  that  he  was  sometimes 
angry  with  it  for  that  very  reason,  and  at 
times  gave  her  more  difficult  tasks  than  any  other 
pupil  in  the  room  of  the  same  age  or  experience. 
Mildred  accepted  everything  so  patiently,  he  was 
growing  bewildered  over  her  and  her  work. 

One   day,  while    she  was   sketching,  with   many 


■  w 


I'ij 
I 


Mh! 


«' 


» -  * 


878 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


ftu    internal   shiver,   a  painful    anatomical   subject, 

he  came  and  stood  at  her  side  in  silence  for  some 

time,  and  then  asked  her  abruptly:  "Are  you   g*> 

ing  to  be  a  teacher  of   painting,  or  do  you  aim  at 

being  an  artist  some  day  yourself?" 

"I  have  not  thought  of  being  a  teacher;   but  I 

have  been  trying  to  make  pictures  ever  since  I  can 

remember." 

"That  is   not    answering  my  question.     Do  you 

expect  some  day  to  be  an  artist?" 

"The  world  is  wide  and  free.  If  God  gives  me 
the  power  to  copy  His  works,  can  any  human  be- 
mg  question  my  right?  "  A  quick  flash  that  gave 
him  a  shock  of  surprise  came  into  the  eyes  she 
turned  upon  him. 

"I  presume  no  one  wishes  to  do  so;  but  it 
would  be  better  if  young  persons  would  make  cer- 
tain they  have  received  that  power.  There  are  al- 
ready too  many  smearing  canvas  and  wasting  good 

paint." 

"I  work  hard  five  days  in  the  week.  Can  any 
one  in  this  worid  or  elsewhere  deny  me  this,  my 
only  relaxation?"  This  silent  creature,  whom  he 
fancied  could  be  crushed  as  easily  as  a  moth, 
faced  him  with  a  courage  no  pupil  had  ever  shown 
before. 


tERO. 


A   VIBITOR. 


879 


iiatomioal  subject, 
silence  for  some 

y :  "  Are  you   go- 

or  do  you  aim  at 
If?" 

a  teacher;  but  I 
es  ever  since  I  can 

question.     Do  you 

If  God  gives  me 
ui  any  human  be- 
ick  flash  that  gave 
into   the    eyes   she 

to  do   so ;  but   it 
8  would  make  cer- 
rer.    There  are  al- 
and wasting  good 

)  week.  Can  any 
deny  me  this,  my 
ireature,  whom  he 
lasily  as  a  moth, 
)il  had  ever  shown 


**  If  you  take  such  satisfaction  in  your  work,  you 
probably  have  talent  enougli  not  to  waste  paint 
and  canvas.  Besides,  the  pleasure  you  take  in  it 
will  in  any  case  be  an  offset  to  the  loss."  He 
spoke  quite  mildly  now. 

"  Then  it  is  not  necessary  we  should  continue 
the  subject  further,"  Mildred  said,  with  a  diguity 
that  would  have  become  Queen  Victoria  dismissing 
some  troublesome  courtier. 

For  the  remainder  of  the  lesson  Mildred  contin- 
ued her  disagreeable  sketch,  scarcely  thinking,  how- 
ever, of  what  she  was  doing.  For  the  question  was 
perplexing  her :  *'  Was  it  wise  to  waste  time  and 
the  price  of  her  lessons,  if  her  teacher,  who  must 
be  a  judge,  considered  her  work  a  failure  ?  "  She 
lingered  at  her  easel  until  all  the  others  had  left 
the  studio,  and  then,  going  to  his  side  where  he 
stood  retouching  a  portrait,  she  said:  — 

«'I  have  been  thinking  the  subject  over,  and 
have  concluded  to  cease  coming  here.  Canvas 
and  paint  are  the  smallest  waste  in  the  matter. 
My  time  and  the  cost  of  the  lessons  are  of  more 
importance.  Besides,  I  shall  think  of  other  things 
in  my  spare  moments." 

He  turned  upon   her  a  look  of  genuine   regret; 


Hi 


1 


.  ^-'^ 


880 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


for  by  the  tone  of  her  voice  he  realised  that  her 
decision  was  arrived  at  by  the  slow  process  of 
reason,  and  would  not  easily  be  shaken. 

»*I  am  very  sorry  I  spoke  to  you  on  the  sub- 
ject. It  is  a  habit  I  have  with  artHstudents.  You 
have  no  idea  how  conceited  they  often  are.  But 
I  see    heroic  treatment  is   not  required    in    your 


case. 


"If  you  were  merely  trying  to  deceive  me  I 
could  not  easily  believe  you  again.  If  so,  how 
can  I  know  certainly  when  you  are  telling  me 
the  truth?" 

"Bless  my  heart!  Where  in  the  world  have 
you  sprung  from?  You  must  have  lived  among 
saints  hitherto." 

"I  have  lived  with  my  mother.  She  never  de- 
ceived me." 

"Well,  henceforth  I  will  use  crystal  truths  with 
you.  I  will  begin  now  with  the  statement  that  I 
believe  you  have  sufficient  talent  for  painting  to 
warrant  the  expectation  that  you  will  be  a  genu- 
ine artist  if  you  persevere  —  mind,  you  must 
work  for  it."  He  held  out  his  hand,  —a  shapely, 
nervous  hand,  that  betokened  the  skilled  workman. 
"You    will   forgive    what    I  said   this  afternoon? 


ISBO. 


A   VIBITOn. 


Ml 


realised  that  her 
le  slow  procesH  of 
I  shaken. 

you  on  the  sub- 
artrstudents.  You 
sy  often  are.  But 
required    in    your 

tc  deceive  me  I 
itgain.  If  so,  how 
Du    are   telling    me 

in  the   world  have 
have  lived  among 

her.    She  never  de- 

)  crystal  truths  with 
tie  statement  that  I 
mt  for  painting  to 
>u  will  be  a  genu- 
-raind,  you  must 
hand,  —  a  shapely, 
B  skilled  workman, 
id   this  afternoon? 


It  is  the  first  time  I  ever  made  such  a  request  of 
a  pupil." 

*^  On  condition  that  you  do  so  always  wlien 
justice  requires  it  of  you."  She  gave  him  her 
hand. 

"The  conditions  are  too  sevens;  I  have  your 
hand  and  I  think  your  forgiveness  also." 

"  I  had  nothing  to  forgive,  really.  No  doubt  I 
have  conceit,  as  well  as  the  others,  which  needed 
to  be  humbled." 

"I  think  not.  You  will  come  back  now  and 
practise  the  same  industry  as  hitherto  ?  "  he  asked 
somewhat  anxiously. 

"Yes,  I  will  come.  I  could  have  shed  a  few 
tears  as  I  finished  the  muscles  in  that  hand  just 
now,  thinking  it  was  the  last  time  I  should  paint 
them.  Not  that  I  particularly  enjoy  painting  mus- 
cles," she  hastened  to  explain. 

"  You  take  life  entirely  too  seriously.  Even  if 
you  had  no  talent  for  the  work,  when  you  find 
so  much  enjoyment  in  it,  you  would  be  vei-y 
foolish  to  give  it  up." 

"Not  if  it  was  a  waste  of  time.  That  is  the 
worst  pit)digality  youth  can  be  guilty  of.  At  least, 
I  feel  so." 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


"I  am  glad  we  had  our  little  unpleasantness. 
We  might  never  have  got  so  well   acquainted." 

"Perhaps  not.  I  do  not  easily  make  friends. 
I  have  very  few." 

"But  they  are  genuine  ones,  I  am  certain." 

Her  face  brightened:  "Oh,  yes;  they  give  me 
such  a  sense  of  opulence;  as  if  I  were  a  million- 
aire,   instead    of    a   timid   gul    with  a  very  small 

salary." 

"  You  are  not  timid,  as  I  have  found."  He  lin- 
gered as  if  content  to  continue  the  conversation 
indefinitely;  but  Mildred,  as  if  recollecting  herself, 
said  good-bye  abruptly  and  left.  She  wanted  to 
get  alone  and  think  over  the  professor's  comfort- 
ing words,  while  she  decided  it  would  pay  to  have 
a  good  many  shivers  over  anatomical  studies  if  at 
last  she  could  put  some  splendid  form  on  canvas. 
To  paint  Miriam,  in  the  forefront  of  the  Israelitish 
host  in  some  green  place  in  the  desert,  had  long 
been  a  cherished  fancy.  The  hours  spent  in  the 
studio  after    this  were  the   red-letter  ones   of  her 

life. 

Lady  Alicia's  visit  came  to  an  end  in  mid-au- 
tumn. She  wished  to  enjoy  part,  at  least,  of  the 
Indian    summer    of   the    New    Worid,    while  she 


,™-3S. 


A   VIBITOn. 


883 


HERO. 

ttle    unpleasantness, 
well   acquainted." 
asily  make    friends. 

J,  I  am  certain." 
yes;  they  give  me 
if  I  were  a  million- 
with  a  very  small 

ave  found."  He  lin- 
lue  the  conversation 
I  recollecting  herself, 
eft.  She  wanted  to 
professor's  comfort- 
it  would  pay  to  have 
tomical  studies  if  at 
idid  form  on  canvas, 
ront  of  the  Israelitish 
the  desert,  had  long 
!  hours  spent  in  the 
id-letter  ones   of  her 

an  end  in  mid-au- 
part,  at  least,  of  the 
V    World,    while  she 


wished  also  to  have  the  voyage   across  the  ocean 
well  over  Iwfore   the  fall  storms  set  in  severely. 
Douglass  accompanied  her,  while  his  mother,  left 
alone  at  Grassmere,  had  a   number  of  benevolent 
projects  of  her  own  to  attend  to.     Mildreds  mat- 
ter-of-fact way  of  accepting  uncongenial  duty  had 
been  powerful  in  influencing  her  friend.     She  had 
never  realized  so  clearly  her  own  possibilities   of 
helpfulness,    with    the    corresponding    responsibili- 
ties. 

Doughws  and  Lady  Alicia  left  one  bright    Oc- 
tober morning.     Mrs.  Everett  went  to   the   steam- 
ship and  saw  them  away,  and  then,  with  a  catch- 
ing of  breath  at  tlie  thought  of  the  lonely  ocean 
that  would  soon  roll  between  herself  and  her  boy, 
she   went    directly   to    Mulberry  Street.     It    was 
early  on   Saturday  morning,  and  the  cottage   was 
undergoing  its  weekly  garnishing,  which  Mildred 
now   performed    for   the    most   part  alone.      The 
doors  were  standing  open.     A  powerful  hammering 
back  in  the  woodshed,  where   Paul  was  engaged 
in  some  carpentering  operation,  effectually  drowned 
the  sound  of  her  gentle  knock,  so  she  went  in, 
following  the  sound  of    a  scrubbing-bnish,   which 
made  itself  heard  above    Paul's  hammering.     Mil- 


884  MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

dred  was  on  her  knees,  the  white,  slender  hands 
handling  the  brush  as  skillfully  as  a  few  hours 
later  they  would  be  applying  paint  to  canvass. 

Mra.  Everett  paused  in  the  doorway,  a  strange 
thrill  of  homely  enjoyment  at  her  heart,  as  she 
took  in  the  pleasant  scene.  Everything  was  so 
beautifully  clean.  The  stove  shone  like  an  ebony 
casket,  the  deal  table  and  floor,  from  their  dazzling 
whiteness,  forming  one  of  those  fine  contrasts 
that  often  occur  naturally  in  unexpected  places. 
Mildred's  back  was  towards  her,  and  she  was  sing- 
ing, much  as  the  birds  sing,  from  very  joy  of  liv- 
ing, the  Pilgrim  Song  from  Lohengrin.  Her  voice 
was  finely  modukted,  while  she  gave  sympathbti- 
coUy  the  expression  the  great  Maestro  might  have 
approved.  Mrs.  Everett  waited  until  the  narrow 
piece  of  floor  was  completed,  and  then  said  softly: 

"Good  morning,  Mildred,  I  did  not  know  you 
could  sing  so  well." 

Mildred  turned  a  very  flushed  face  towards  her 
visitor.  "Have  you  been  here  long?"  she  asked, 
bestowing  a   nervous   glance   on  her  faded  cotton 

wrapper. 

"  Long  enough  to  hear  the  Pilgrim  Song.  But 
may    I  sit  down   in  your   dainty   kitehen?       My 


HERO. 

hite,  slender  hands 
ly  as   a   few  hours 
aint  to  canvass, 
doorway,  a  strange 
her  heart,  as    she 
Everything   was   so 
hone   like  an  ebony 
,  from  their  dazzling 
hose    fine    contrasts 
unexpected    places, 
r,  and  she  was  sing^ 
•om  very  joy  of  liv- 
thengrin.     Her  voice 
le   gave    sympathtti- 
Maestro  might  have 
d   until    the   narrow 
md  then  said  softly : 
did  not   know    you 

led  face  towards  her 
I  long?"  she  asked, 
m  her  faded  cotton 

Pilgrim  Song.     But 
inty   kitehen?       My 


A   riBlTOB.  ^^^ 

great^ndmother  must  have  had  such  a  one,  for 
it  strikes  a  strangely  responsive  chord  away  down 

in  my  heart." 

ul  shall  enjoy  remembering  that  our  kitehen 
has  been  been  brightened  by  your  presence,"  Mil- 
dred said,  her  accustomed  ease  of  manner  quite  re- 
gained. She  brought  an  easy^jhair  and  placed  it 
by  the  window,  where  a  linnet  was  swinging  on 
ite  perch  above   the   roses  that   crowded  the   wm. 

dow-sill.  ,  .      J 

uHow  charming!"  Mrs.  Everett  exclaimed,  as 
she  sank  into  the  comfortable  seat  and  turned  to 
the  fragrant  window.  "  Why,  you  have  things  more 
homely  and  heartsome  than  anything  at  Grassmere, 
my  child!     I  wonder   that   you   go   into   ecstecies 

over  our  place." 

Mildi-ed  smiled,  and  then  excused  herself.      An 
open  book  lay   near,   but    Mrs.     Everett   found  it 
^  only  a  school-book,  with  "Paul  Kent,  Esquire, 
written  in  various  places  in   it.     Mildred  presently 
returned  -  a  fresh  gown  having  replaced  her  scrub- 

bing-robe. 

u  I  am  alone,  and  in  my  loneUness  I  came  fii«t  to 
you.  An  apology  is  due  for  my  unceremonious 
morning  call,"  Mrs.  Everett  said. 


386 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


"An  apology  is  never  needed  for  your  presence 
here."  Mildred  spoke  so  heartily,  it  reminded  her 
companion  of  old-fashioned  hospitality. 

"I  cannot  descrihe  the  sense  of  desolation  that 
nearly  ovei-powered  me,  as  if  a  terrible  cloud  were 
falling  between  us,  as  I  said  good-bye  to  my  boy 
and  saw  him  turn  away.  I  had  not  realized,  Pince 
my  great  trouble,  what  a  world  of  farewells  and 
bitter  separations  this  is."  The  blue  eyes  filled 
with  tears,  as  they  looked  at  Mildred  with  a  pite- 
ous appeal  for  consolation. 

She  was  silent  for  a  while  as  a  swift  sense  came 
to  her  that  her  friend's  desolation  would  be  her 
own,  and  then  she  said  softly :  "  God  will  have  him 
in  His  keeping.  You  told  me  once  that  you  had 
given  your  son  to  Him. 

"We  present  our  dearest  ones  to  God,  and  then 
take  them  back  again." 

"And  we  often  judge  ourselves  more  harshly 
than  our  Heavenly  Father  judges  us.  But  is  not 
Douglass  a  Christian  ?  " 

"Yes;  if  the  ocean  swallowed  him,  I  should  feel 
certain  he  was  safe  with  Christ." 

"  Then  does  it  so  much  matter  what  world  he  is 
in  if  he  is  in  harmony  with  God  ?    Ever  since  my 


rEKO. 

for  your  presence 
y,  it  reminded  her 
tality. 

of  desolation  that 
terrible  cloud  were 
ood-bye  to  my  boy 
.  not  realized,  pince 
d  of  farewells  and 
le  blue  eyes  flUed 
:ildred  with  a  pite- 

i  a  swift  sense  came 

ion    would  be    her 

"  God  will  have  him 

once  that  you  had 

)s  to  God,  and  then 

lelves   more   harshly 
jes  us.     But  is   not 

d  him,  I  should  feel 

t." 

ter  what  world  he  is 

rod  ?     Ever  since  my 


A   VIBITOB.  ^'^ 

mother  assured  me  that  our  home  in  heaven  would 
be  better  ihan  Grassmex.,  I  have  looked  upon  death 
as  a  friend^a  genUe  friend.  I  cannot  feel  sorry 
for  those  who  die  in  the  Lord." 

«I  thought  you  would  smile   at  my  fears,  and 
assure  me  they  would  get    across    safely    and    my 
boy  would  come  back ;  but  you  never  look  at  things 
like  the  rest  of  us.     And,  dear,  you  l^ve  comfori. 
ed  me  mo«.  than  any  one  else  could."     She  drew 
the   pure  gulish  f ace  to  her  and  kissed  it  lovingly, 
ui  wish  you  were  my  own  child,  MUdied. 
•     u  Don't  you  think  there  are  many  things  we  can 
enjoy  as  rtuch  as  if  we  really  owned  them,  without 
having  the  care  of  them?    I  think  I  do." 

«If  you  belonged  to  me,  I  would  not  be  com- 
pelled  to  go  back  to  Grassmere  alone." 

Mildred  looked  pex-plexed  for  a  while,  and  then 
said  timidly:  "Did  you  ever  teke  your  dinner  m 
such  a  very,  common  house  as  this?" 

uYour  question  is  rather  irrelevant  to  our  con- 
versation;  but  I  have  taken  my  dinner  in  much 
commoner  houses.  I  think,  my  dear,  this  is  a  very 
uncommon  home. 

«But  I  mean  so  plwn  and  humble." 

.What  are  you   preparing   me   for?    Please  do 


86S 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


not  perplex   me  with  conundmnui,"  Mrs.   Everett 

said,  with  a  smile. 

ulf  you  would  dine  with  us  and  stay  with  my 
mother  while  I  take  my  lesson,  I  would  then  ac- 
company you  home ;   that  i«  if   you   care   to   have 

me  go."  ,-       ., 

"Thank  you  a  thousand  times.    I  would  rather 

take  my  dinner  here  to^iay  tlian  anywhere  else  on 
the  continent.  But  my  presence  may  interfere  with 
your  mother's  plans." 

"No,  indeed.  She  is  on  a  shopping  expedition 
just  now,  ^vith  a  lady  who  has  her  head  so  full  of 
moi-e  important  thoughts  she  has  none  to  spare  on 
the  matter  of  dress.  So  she  employs  my  mother  to 
do  that  kind  of  thinking  for  her." 

"And  you  will  get  the  dinner  all  alone?" 
"  I  always  do  on  Saturdays  and  Sundays.      They 
are  my  mother's  holidays." 

"I  have   never   helped   prepare  a  dinner   in  my 
life.     May  I  help  yoti?" 

u  Our  dinner  will  not  be  like  yours,  Mildred 
said,  with  .  flush.  "You  will  wonder  at  my 
holdness  in  asking  you  to  sliare  it  with  us.  But 
I  am  not  used  to  having  help,  and  I  will  get  you 
a  book  while  I  am  busy.  There  is  a  good  while 
yet,  however,  before  my  work  wiU  begm." 


!R0. 

a,"  Mrs.   Everett 

nd  stay  with  my 
[  would  then  ac- 
ou   cai-e   to   have 

,     I  would  rather 

anywhere  else  on 

may  interfere  with 

opping   expedition 

tier  head  so  full  of 

I  none  to  spare  on 

jloys  my  mother  to 

r." 

p  all  alone?" 

d  Sundays.      They 

re  a  dinner   in  my 

ke  yours,"  Mildred 
ill  wonder  at  my 
■e  it  with  us.  But 
and  I  will  get  you 
3ie  is  a  good  while 
will  begin." 


A   riBITOR. 


889 


Mildred  brought  her  sewing,  and  soon  they  were 
ahBorbed  in  the  mc.t  natural  and  ^f -*«. -^^^^ 
sation  they  had  ever  held.  Mildred  —d  her 
school  methods  and  the  mission^chool,  w.th  M. 
FelWs  increasing  congregation;  several  of  ^e 
chUdren  having  joined   and  b..ught   the.   parents 

with  them.  .,^ 

.1  would  like  to  have  t«k.n  *.m  to  our  own 
ehu^h,"  Matod  tonkly  oonf»»«l ;  "but  it «  o«r- 
„„wded  now.     Beside.,  it  did  not  «en.  houo»Ue 
towMd.  Mr.  Felton.  when  he  g.ve  u.  .ueh  ««.!> 
L,   .nd   they   .«    .uel.    •  "«•*   '"    «"""«.*: 
.„pty   ee..,   .t   St.   M.UehiV     P«.r  Mr.    Felton 
,«,L\ounger  now  th.n  he  did  -«;»/»;'  ""^^^ 
^d   to  dip   into  »  ^^  '•»'  -*  '»'»;   *»  *° 
p„ye«   .nd  eenuon.     He  »,»   h.  wou^d  he  o». 
Lt  a  we  would  unite  with  him;  but  we  dudl 
never  leave  our  own  chnioh." 

»I  beU.™  we  should  love  our  churoh  »  we  do 
our  kindred,"  M«.  Everett  srid,  reBeetively.  "  One 
never   thinks  of    easting  o«   one's   toily  t.,s  and 

adopting  new  ones." 

-H  no  one  h«l  ever  done  so,  w.  would  stdl  to 
to  U.e  darkness  of  the  Medieval  ages.  We  should 
tot  make  sure  our  church  is  in  harmony  with  the 


*, 


PESffl^.S^ 


890  MfLDHED  KEST'S  HERO. 

Bible.  After  that  we  niay  love  her  absorbingly. 
If  the  world  continues  to  emerge  into  clearer  light 
it  is  difficult  for  us  to  realize  to  what  excellence 
Christians  will  attain  in  the  lapse  of  years.  I 
would  3  ike  to  have  waited  for  the  thirtieth  century." 
Mildred  s  voice  expressed  much  the  same  longing 
that  the  average  girl's  wouM  have  for  a  coveted 
article  of  attire  or  jewelry.  Then,  after  a  while, 
she  said:  "I  suppose  each  one  of  us  is  specially 
created  for  the  age  in  which  we  live,  and  any- 
way, I  shall  be  somewhere  in  creation." 

»af  I  permitted  myself  regrete  on  the  subject, 
I  should  be  sorry  I  was  not  a  child  of  our  first 
parents,  with  the  traditions  of  Eden  fresh  about 
me.  Think  how  many  centuries  of  existence  I 
have  lost  already.  Indeed,  I  would  not  wish  my 
advent  into  life  postponed  a  day  kter  than  God 

gave  it  to  me." 

"I  never  thought  of  it  in  that  way  before." 
Mildred  sat  for  a  good  while   thinking   very  in- 
tently on  the  subject,  her  needle  flying  m  and  out 
of  the  glossy  silk  she  was  fashioning. 

i'l  cannot  express  how  glad  I  am  that  God  ever 
thought  about  me,  that  He  ever  made  me,"  she 
said  at  last  with  an  air  of  supreme  satisfaction. 


VKO. 

her  absorbingly, 
into  clearer  light 
what  excellence 
ipse  of  years.  I 
thirtieth  century." 
the  same  longing 
ftve  for  a  coveted 
len,  after  a  while, 
of  us  is  specially 
«re  live,  and  any- 
■eation." 

bs  on  the  subject, 
child  of  our  first 
Eden  fresh  about 
88  of  existence  I 
[>uld  not  wish  my 
ty  later  than  God 

;  way  before." 
thinking   very  in- 

I  flying  in  and  out 

•ning. 
am  that  God  ever 

3r  made   me,"  she 

me  satisfaction. 


A  VJBITOJt. 


891 


"I  have  been  watching  your  face  and  wonder- 
ing what  your  thoughts  were  so  ahsorbed  about. 
You  seemed  to  fo- -et  the  outsido  world." 

»'  Yes,  indeed.  Even  the  dinner  to  which  I  have 
invited  the  friend,  next  to  my  mother,  I  love  best 
in  all  the  world." 

"You  dear  child,  why  did  you  never  tell  me 
that  before?  You  are  so  odd  and  reticent,  I  did 
not  know  you  cared  for  me  at  all  only  aw  your 
eyes  revealed  it  to  me." 

"It  did  not  seem  necessary  to  toll  you.  It 
would  be  like  assuring  the  sun  that  his  shining 
was  agreeable." 

"  I  shall  pity  your  lover  and  husband  if  you  are 
so  silent  with  them." 

"What  more  can  a  man  ask  than  to  have  a 
woman  give  herself  to  him  for  life?  If  I  ever  do 
that,  he  may  be  sure  I  would  give  my  life  for 
him,  if  it  were  necessary  for  his  h       at  good." 

"I  often  wonder  whom  you  will  marry.  Girls 
of  your  age  generally  have  their  head  full  of  love 
and  marriage.  Won't  you  confess  to  me  ?  Do  you 
never  think  about  your  fairy  prince  ? " 

"I  must  wait  until  I  know  if  he  has  been  cre- 
ated for  me,"  Mildred  said,  with  a  rose  tint  flush- 


^\ 


$M 


MILDRED  KStfT'B  HERO. 


ing   cheek    and    brow.     "I    would    rather   talk   of 
other  things,  anyway." 

"Oh,  you  shy,  perfect  maiden!  You  almost 
make  me  wish  I  was  a  lad  to  woo  and  win  you 
myself.     You    would    take    me    for    Grassmere,    I 

suppose  ? ' 

"  If  I  loved  you  I  would  take  you  for  yourself, 
if  you  came  to  me  in  Tommy  Tuffta'  form,  and 
with  his  prospects." 

"Yes,  you  are  unworldly  enough  for  anything. 
I  expect  nothing  else  than  you  will  throw  youi- 
self  away  on  some  of  those  mission-school  lads  — 
that  Carver  boy,  perhaps. 

"I  do  not  think    Jack  was   created    for  me.      I 

really  hope  not." 

"You  have  thought  on  the  subject  then?" 

"  Jack  has  spoken  to  me  about  it.     He  thinks  it 

is  my  duty.     His  life  has    been    so   unblessed  by 

womankind." 

"  Your  duty,  —people  outside  of  royalties  do  not 
have  to  many  from  duty  —that  is  the  penalty  that 
class  have  to  pay  for  their  honors.  Tell  Jack 
never  to  think  of  such  a  thing  again." 

"I  certainly  will.  One  must  not  carry  duty  too 
far,  I  think."  The  girlish  face  brightened,  and  she 
began  preparations  for  dinner. 


A  ViaiTOH. 


8M 


<to. 

[   rather   talk   of 

n !  You  tilmost 
H)  and  win  you 
or    Oraasmere,   I 

you  for  yourself, 
Tuffto'  form,  and 

gh  for  anything, 
will  throw  your- 
lon-Bchcol   lads  — 

Bated   for  me.      I 

bject  then  ?" 
t  it.     He  thinks  it 
HO   unblessed  by 

of  royalties  do  not 
LB  the  penalty  that 
mors.  Tell  Jack 
again." 

not  carry  duty  too 
brightened,  and  she 


„Tbat  girl  i.  th.  odd»t  nUxtu™  o.   g-^  ;^ 

innocence -geo--    '':^"l  Z'Z^M 
knew,"  M«.  Everett  M  f  h.«>t  »  ^^  ™ 
Mildi^d  aitUng  gmeelaUy  U.  and  fro,  » 

j:„p...d...e™eu.^---:r: 

appetizing   flavor,      bhe    ^au. 

;r.  -he  Uid  the   cloth   .oj.  I^^^J^^ 

,^^,.t«erecHeH.Hedh.r^-«^-^^^^ 

P^^nUy  *-  ""'jrT.lkl  tir«l  and  wo. 
n,„.e„t  after,  Mr..  ^  "^J^'-^  „^^  ^.». 
ried,  entered  with    the   ""»  ^   » 

M„.  Everett  i--^''  -J^  ::rfeU   «. 
per^n  >«th  exceUent  luj.  «l-o  ^.^  ^ 

perfectly  at  home  "j"'"  "  ' /^^^^  ,^.  „„„,,, 
^  0,  human  face,  ^'"l^" ^j"^^  .  ,nick 
lecture    hy  the  hour.    Mn,   _K»t  -  l^ 

her  companion  e«,t  a  longmg  glanceat  t 

.  u       «.,t  Mm.  Kent'e    patience   was   m    neat 
UHe.    But  Mn..  ^^^  ^^^  ^^^^ 

termination,  «he  decKlea  lo  g"" 
customer. 


894 


MILDRED    KENT'S   MEMO. 


"  I  will  toke  yon  to  another  room   and  fit  your 
dre8«  directly ;  ho  that    you  need  be  no  longer  de- 

tained." 

The  woman  awured  her  that  she  wan  in  no 
huny  whatever;  but  Mi^.  Kent  could  be  aa  digni- 
fied .w  her  proudest  cuHtomer,  when  occa»ion  de- 
manded. Mildred  looked  reUeved  when  she  saw 
the  door  close  behind  her.  "I  wa«  afraid  mamma 
would  not  be  firm,  and  she  would  have  spoiled 
all  our  pleasure.  Do  you  think  intellectual  people 
ai^  diffei-ent  from  othe«?  She  is  the  only  Uter- 
ary  person  I  have   ever  met." 

uYou    innocent   child  I     Why  do    you    call  her 

literary  ?  " 

u  Why,  she  tells  us  herself  that  she  is.    She  says 

her    name    will    go    echoing   down    the    ages    for 

thousands  of  years.    Sometimes  I  hope  people  will 

forget  about  her  before  that  time." 
"Are  you  envious  of  her?" 
»I  hope  not;  but  she  does  tire  us  dreadfully." 
"She  is   a  veiy   coramon-phice   woman;  but   she 

has  the  faculty  of  getting  people  to  listen  to  her 

nonsense." 

uit  iB  a  relief  to  hear  that    She  wastes  a  great 
deal  of  our  time,  but  one  feels  it  to  be  a  duty  to 


■■■ 


T 


X   VIBITOH. 


S96 


1BM0. 

room  and  fit  your 
i  be  no  longer  tie- 
it    she    WM   in    no 

could  be  as  digni- 
when  occasion  de- 
veA  when  she  saw 
was  afraid  mamma 
»rould  have  spoiled 
c  intellectual  people 

la   the    only   liter- 

y  do    you    call  her 

hat  she  is.  She  says 
lown  the  ages  for 
\  I  hope  people  will 
me. 

tire  us  dreadfully." 
kce   woman;  but   she 
jple  to  listen  to   her 

She  wastes  a  great 
la  it  to  be  a  duty  to 


^e  «cri«o»  (or  ol.v«  p«.pl..    Vou   M  »  U 

.nd  lx«kB  by  Having  then,  their  worry  • 

..Yo«r  own  ide«  ar.  ™.Uy  .up.r.or  U.  any  to 
ta.h.  o«.  manufacur.,"   M».   Evr."  -"n^ 

duUe.  intent.  „, 

Th«  dinner,   though   Umite.1         tn 

11  _.    orWle  their  KUestenjoyeU  it 
oourw.,  WM  excellent,  while  tne     g 
more  by  way  of  variety,  tlurn  one  of  lier  "wn  ehib- 
:::  dLe«  that  eoet  ten    time,    the   an»«.t   of 

time  and  money. 


_^    .J.  t*.  -  -, 


mil  mi  wm 


M 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

CLOSE     BY    THE  GATES. 

^HE  days  wore  on  until  Mrs.  Everett  began 
to  1'    V  feveiishly   for  a   cablegram   from 
Douglass,  while  others   besides  her  shared 
her  anxiety.     Mildred  was  at  Grassmere  now  nearly 
every  day.     No  one  was  able   to  cheer  the  lonely 
woman    like    the    calm,    pale-faced   girl   who   was 
herself  growing  whiter   every    day,    but   bore    her 
anxieties    silently,    whUe     stUl    maintaining    that 
Douglass    was   in    safety    somewhere.     There   had 
been  a  terrible  gale  about  the  time  they  might  be 
expected  to   enter    the    channel,    which  had  disa- 
bled or  completely    wrecked    many    vessels.     The 
days  at  Grassmere  wei-e  passed  now,  by  its  heavy- 
hearted  mistress,  in   waiting  for   tidings    from  the 


txi. 


SPATES. 


Mi-8.  Everett  began 
■  a  cablegram  from 
B  besides  her  shared 
jrrassmere  now  nearly 
to  cheer  the  lonely 
faced   girl    who   was 

day,  but  bore  her 
11  maintaining  that 
lewhere.  There  had 
B  time  they  might  be 
lel,    which  had  disa- 

many  vessels.  The 
3d  now,  by  its  heavy- 
for    tidings    from  the 


897 

CLOaE  BY  TBE  QATEB. 

.     .         ffin«    the  niehts  in  wakefulness  or  fitful 
shippmg  office    the  mgh  ^^^^.^^  .^ 

'^""";r  T^  1  I   food    for   fishes    in    l^e 
the    wild,   angry   seas  or 

„«.„..  horriMe,  sluny  depths.  How  ««%  ^ 
Tri-At  be.  and  eheery  p«.enee  e«ne  heto™  her 
^S  Witt  fte  hopes  a».t   h«l  heen  oonteml  m 

rrds^rrthron...r.he^»^.;^ 

"*:rr«orrr.h\n>».o. 

mourner  »  *« ^"  annihilation,  bat 

rnrd:it:twhtherw...nd»th. 

ride  .he  desoUteone,  their  conver»>t.on  dnfted  1»^ 
^  dl  ocean's  depths  or  the  «-- ^^^^^ 
Le  to  broader  and  cWr  region.,  where  to  soul 
tolit.  sndless  resting-place,  though  engaged,  no 
doubt,  in  unceasing  activities. 
*  beUeve  God  dir«=ted  yon  to  n»,  and  has  b«n 
„   for  mv  comfort  all   these  years, 
^"^IS  ^d  "    Mildred  one  owning.     All 


--! 


898 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


kept  the  mother  fi-om  utter  prostration  of  heart; 
for  she  shared  with  Mrs.  Kent  a  little  superstition 
respecting  this  sixth  sense  with  which  Mildred 
seemed  to  be  endowed. 

The  wind  howled  dismally  without,  the  freez- 
ing December  air  penetrated  the  closely  curtained 
windows,  making  the  desolate  mourner  shudder  at 
{bought  of  her  boy,  tossing  somewhere  on  the  wUd, 

stormy  seas. 

"If  I  only  knew  that  he  was  sheltered  some- 
where to-night,  even  if  it  was  under  -a  mound  in 
Greenwood,  I  could  be  content,"  she  moaned. 
"And  have  you,  too,  ceased  to  hope?" 

"Yes,    I    have    ceased    to    hope;    for    you    all 

•  say   to   do    so  is  useless.     I  only    feel  that  he   is 

still  living;   that  is  more  assuring  than  hope.      It 

seems   like   those    vivid    impressions   of    chUdhood 

that  rarely  deceived  me." 

They  sat  for  a  long  time  in  sUence,  only  the 
rustle  of  MUdred's  work,  as  she  busUy  pUed  her 
needle,  broke  the  stilhxess;  for  no  matter  what  the 
care  or  sorrow,  she  still  worked  on.  Time  seemed 
too  precious  to  rush  by  unimproved,  while  Mrs. 
Everett  confessed  to  being  comforted  by  Mildred's 
industrious  ways. 


CLOBE  BY  THE  GATES. 


899 


tration  of  heart; 

little  superstition 

which    Mildred 

bhout,  the  fi-eez- 
closely  curtained 
urner  shudder  at 
here  on  the  wild, 

I  sheltered  some- 
ider  -a  mound  in 
b,"    she     moaned. 

--J.-  - 

pe;    for    you    all 

feel  that  he   is 

g  than  hope.      It 

ons   of    childhood 

silence,  only  the 
1  busily  plied  her 
lo  matter  what  the 
on.  Time  seemed 
»roved,  while  Mrs. 
jrted  by  Mildred's 


»When  you  are  not  heW'  she  said  to  her,  "it 
seems  as  if  there  were  a  perpetual  funeral  going 
on  in  the  house;  but  you  bring  back,  with  your 
hands  full  of  work,  a  sense  of  life  and  comiort. 

M™.  Everett  lay  down  on  the  sofa  which   MU- 
d..d  drew  up  within  the  circle  of  the  fU^light 

u  Won't  you  sing  something?     I  am  afraid  if  I 
do  not  grow  calmer  I  shall  lose  my  senses." 

Mildred   went    to    the   piano   and   presently  the 
room  was  filled  with  the  comforting  stmins  of  old 
English  hymns  that  have   kept  many  a  des^irmg 
hea'rt  fi^mTtterly  breaking.     The  loving  AU-Father 
seemed  nearer  and  moi.   precious.  His   care   more 
unfailing  as  the  mourner  listened.     The  tears  forced 
themselves  through  the  hot  lids,  bringing  ease   to 
the  heart,  and  for  the  first  time  in  her  awM  anx- 
iety  she   was   enabled  to   say    truly,-"Thy  will 
be  done."     The  household  was  summoned  at  last 
to  the  customary  reading  of  prayers.    When  the 
exercises  were  ended,  the  servants  went  with  soi^ 
„wful  faces  from  the  room;  while   Mildred  con- 
tinned  some  time  longer  to  read  the  Bible  aloud. 
She  closed  the  book  at  last,  for  it  was   growing 
late,  and  she  had  to  be  early  astir  on  account  of 
her  school,  when  a  sudden  ringing  of    the  door- 


-■  t 


^x ""''"'" 


w 


400  MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

beU  surprised  them,  and  a  few  momenta  after  the 
servant   ushered   a   gentleman  into   the   room,  cov- 
ered vvith  snow,  but  liis  face  shining  with  pleas- 
ure.    Mre.  Everett  sprang  to  her  feet,   for  it  was 
one  of  the  owners  of  the  ill-fated  steamship. 
"  You  have  news  for  me.     Is  my  boy  aUve  ?  " 
"Yes;   he  is  among  the  saved." 
"Where  is  he?    Will  he  be  home  to-night?" 
"We    only    had    a    cablegram,    very    brief,    of 
couree ;   but  it  gives   the  names  of  the   survivors. 
The    ship    foundered    in  the   gale;   the   crew   and 
passengere   took   to    the   boats.     Only   two   of   the 
latter  have  been   heard   from.     They  were   picked 
up  by   a  saUing  vessel  bound   for  Lisbon.     Your 
son  is  there  now." 

"When  shall  we  get  further  tidings?" 
"In   a  few    days    at   furthest.     Meanwhile    you 
will  know  everything  is  being  done  for  them  that 
is  possible ;   they  were  subject  t«  considerable   ex- 
posure,  and  may  not  be  able  to  come  directly." 

Mra.    Everett    looked    alarmed.      "Douglass    is 
Uttle   more    than  a  boy  yet,    but  with  all  a  man's, 
daring  and  unselfishness,     I  shall  leave  in  the  next 
boat  for  England." 

Mr.  Brenton,  instead  of  dissuading  her   as   Mil- 


" '  ■  -■''.■W^ISlBSii&'i 


■■1 


lERO. 

momenta  after  the 
ito  the  room,  cov- 
hining  with  pleas- 
er  feet,  for  it  was 
ted  steamship. 
\  my  boy  alive?" 

)d." 

I  home  to-night?" 
km,    very   brief,    of 
!S  of   the   survivors, 
rale;   the   crew  and 

Only  two  of  the 
They  were   picked 

for  Lisbon.    Your 

r  tidings?" 
St.    Meanwhile   you 
done  for  them  that 
,  to  considerable   ex- 
to  come  directly." 
med.      "Douglass    is 
but  with  all  a  man's, 
lall  leave  in  the  next 

suading  her   as   Mil- 


CLOHE  BY  THE  GATES.  ^^ 

dred  expected,  encouraged  the  undertaking.  She 
looked  at  him  keenly.  He  met  her  iS^--^^^  ^ 
his  face  sheread  more  than  his  Up.  utt«red  He 
sat  for  some  time  making  suggeBtions  about  ti^ 
journey,  and  at  last  said:  *»  WUl  you  go  alone? 
'  Mrs  Everett  looked  wistfully  at  Mddred:- 
"Won't  you  come  with  me? 

u  Yes,  if  my  mother  will  consent,  and  the  school- 

trustees."  __      -.   ^„j 

»I  win  arrange  it  wiA  the  latter.    May  I  -'nd 

.   me«.nger   t,.oight  to   your  mother?    I  could 

get  some  deep  i«  I  ta-«*  y<>«  "«"  ^  ^  "^ 

°"» I  will  write  a  few  lines  while  the  man  to  getr 
tinir  ready.     ShaU  I  ring?" 

f  I  will  go  m,«U  and  teU  him.  You  ^U  ^d 
writinit  materials  in  my  desk." 

Wton  .he  had  left  the  room  MUdred  turned 
ahmptiy  t«  Mr.  Brenton.  "You have  not  told  «. 
,11.    Was  Mr.  Kverett  hurt?"  ,     ,  ,. 

»He  to  dangerously  iU  in  the  hospital  at  L* 
b„„.  He  robbed  himself  pmbaWy  of  both  food 
„d  elothing  for  the  sJce  of  m  women  and  ehU- 

-^When    Mrs.    Everett    returned   the    note    w« 


-t 


402  MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

written  and  the  messenger  was  despatched  with  it. 
The   answer  he  brought    back   was   what   MQdred 
expected;   and  but  for  the  secret  Mr.  Brenton  had 
confided  to  her,  she  would  have  been  a  most  hap- 
py girl   that  night  at  the   prospect  of   a   journey 
acitjss   the   ocean   and  td   the  historic   shores  that 
she  had  so  longed  to  look  upon.     Mrs.   Everett 
seemed  her  old,   happy  self    again  as  she   kissed 
Mildred  good-night.     Mildred  was  early  astir  and 
without  waiting  to  disturb   Mrs.    Everett    started 
for  home   in  the   grey  dawn.     Her  mother's  face 
looked  sad.     Plainly  it  was   not  a  joy  to  her,   as 
to   her    daughter,  this    stormy    ocean   voyage   and 
long  separation.     The  tanink  was  packed  and  prep- 
arations all  completed  when  the  carriage,  came  for 
her.    With  sorrowful  hearts  and  tearniimmed  eyes 
her  mother  and  Paul  and  Grace  bade  her  good- 
bye. 


HBKO. 

despatched  with  it. 
was  what  Mildred 
ret  Mr.  Brenton  had 
e  been  a  most  hap- 
«pect  of  a  journey 
historic  shores  that 
pon.  Mrs.  Everett 
igain  as  she  kissed 
was  early  astir  and 
[rs.    Everett    started 

Her  mother's  face 
ot  a  joy  to  her,   as 

ocean  voyage  and 
as  packed  and  prep- 
be  carriage  came  for 
and  tear-dimmed  eyes 
race  bade  her  good- 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

*  IN    THE  HOSPITAL. 

That  oc«».  voyag.  w™  Ml  ot  joy  to  Mtt- 

a^.      Probably  no   other  voyage   wodd 

-        be  i«.t  equd  to  it  in  her  exbtanoe.    T^ 

r«t^  .naking  he.  *->"*^ '"^"''^T, 
wide  leaguea  of  toMing  «»v«.-  Sl»  ^  ^  "'f 
rtin  Z  other  p.»«.ge«  i"  '""'■^^  *«  ««••' 

her   wonderful   expenences.      Ihe   omy 

her   won  «  ^^^^gj   j^ 

cared  for  now  was  the  Bible,     ii  «" 


-1 


404 


MILDRED  KEST'8  BKBO. 


be   in   keeping  with    the  mugio    of    the  soughing 
wind  and  the  moan  of  the   never-weary  sea.    The 
other  passengers    watched   the    tall,  fau'-faced   girl 
sitting  in   some  sheltered  nook,  reading  and  watch- 
ing the  sea   by  turns.     She   seemed,   however,   to 
have  little  more  curiosity  about  themselves  than  the 
seagulls  that  occasionally  circled  about  the   masts. 
A  new  light  came   into  her  face  that  Mrs.   Eveiv 
ett  fancied   she   had   never   seen   there   before  — a 
look   of   deepest    content,  as    if    life's   perplexities 
had  vanished  before  the   vastness  of  nature.      She 
had  never  before  come  into  such  harmonious  con- 
tact   with   it,  for   the   country  had   been   a  sealed 
book,  save  in  the  glimpses  got  through  the  lawns 
and  flower-gardens  of  Grassmere. 

As  they  neared  the  English  Channel  the  weather 
changed  and  the  ship's  officers  began  to  scan  the 
distant  horizon  and  sky  with  greater  intentness. 
In  conversation  with  a  friendly  sailor,  Mildred 
was  charmed  to  hear  that  a  storm  was  expected ; 
and  while  every  other  soul  on  board  devoutly 
hoped  that  in  the  race  between  wind  and  steam 
the  latter  might  win,  Mildred  as  eagerly  wished 
she  might  see  the  green  restless  ocean  in  its 
wildest  fury.     Even    to    be    enveloped    by  it  and 


-1 


BSBO. 

0  of    the  soughing 
ver-weary  sea.    The 

tall,  fair-faced  girl 
;,  reading  and  watch- 
eemed,  however,  to 
b  themselves  than  the 
,ed  about  the  masts, 
ice  that  Mrs.  Ever- 
en  there  before  —  a 
if  life's  perplexities 
ess  of  nature.  She 
iich  harmonious  con- 
'  had  been  a  sealed 
)t  through  the  lawns 
sre. 

Channel  the  weather 
s  begfan  to  scan  the 

1  greater    intentness. 
ndly    sailor,    Mildred 

storm  was  expected ; 
on  board  devoutly 
'een  wind  and  steam 
id  as  eagerly  wished 
'estless  ocean  in  its 
enveloped    by  it  and 


IN  TBE  HOSPITAL. 


406 


carried  to  the  still  depths  below;  for  the  long 
Bleep  did  not  seem  terrible  -  rather  *«  ^e  ^ 
ferred  than  the  wearying  sickness  and  narrow  bed 
of  those  who  die  on  hind. 

The    steamship    made    excellent   time,  but    the 
storm    had    stronger    propelling    power;    for    it 
caught  them  ere  they  had  reached  the   shelter  of 
docL;  but  only  from  the  closed  state-room  could 
MUdred  enjoy  the  war  of  elements,  -  Mrs.  Ever- 
ett  positively  forbidding  the  risk  of    a    peep    on 
deck.    Mildred  sat  with  eager  shining  eyes  revel- 
ing  in  the  mad  plunges  of  Ihe   ship,  as  it  fought 
with  the  elements,  trying    to    imagine  what    the 
wUd  sky  and  wUder  ocean  looked  like  in  one  of 
its  clearing^up  moods.      At  Ust,  to  the  great  re- 
lief  of  every  one  else,  they  were  safely  moored  at 
the  dock,   when   MUdred,  with   throbbing    pulses, 
aaw  the  land  that  after    all  was   her   real  home, 
where  her  imcestors  for  a  score  of  generations  had 
Uved  and  loved  and  died.    It  was  not,  however,  untd 
they  had  got  beyond  the  smoke  and  crowds  of  Liver- 
pool  that  she    really   felt   at   home;  but  as    they 
swept  past  cottages  nestling  amid  trees,  bare  and 
leaaess  now,  and   stately  mansions,  the    hauntmg 
feeling  that  she  had  seen  it  long  before  came  vxv- 


406 


MILDRED  KEST'S  KBM. 


idly,  making   her  believe   that   through   other  eyes 
now   long   gone   to  dust,   she   was   looking   on    a 
familiar    scene.      Mrs.    Everett's    hotel    was    in    a 
fjwhionable    square,    whither    they    went    directly. 
She  liad  felt  certain   of   meeting  Douglass   at  the 
Htation,  having   telogmphed   to  Mr.  Inglis,  the  pro- 
prietor    of    the     hotel,  just    before    leaving    New 
York;  but  to  her  great  disappointment  there  was 
no  one  waiting  for  them  at  the  depot.     On  reach- 
ing  her  hotel  she  learned   the   full   particulars  of 
the  shipwreck,  and  of  her  son's  heroism  and  self- 
forgetfulness,    thereby     imperilling  his    own     life; 
but  she   did  not  know  how  dangerously  ill  he  were 
until    the    telegrams    that    had  been    coming    for 
several    days    in    expectation  of    her  arrival   were 
produced.    MUdred  opened   the    yellow    envelopes 
herself,    for    Mrs.    Everett  was    nearly   prostrated 
by     grief    and    disappointment.      The   first    read, 
"Your    son    very  low ;    we    still    have    hopes." 
The  next,  a  day  kter,   "Crisis   not  yet  reached,  but 
fever    increasing."     The    last,   "Come    direcUy  if 
you  Mrish  to  see  him  alive." 

Mrs.  Everett  turned  to  Mr.  Inglis:  — "How  cai^ 
we  get  there  quickest,  by  land  or  water?" 

«  By  all  means  take  the  land  route.     At  this  sea- 
son it  is  safest  and  the  speediest" 


.^smsm^^^BZ 


-    T 


TKMO. 

hrough   other  eyes 
M   looking   on    a 
hotel    wafl    in    a 
ley    went    directly. 
|g  Douglatw  at  the 
Mr.  IngliH,  the  pro- 
ifore    leaving    New 
intment  there  was 
e  depot.     On  reach- 
full   particulars   of 
rs  heroism  and  self- 
ling  his    own     life; 
gerously  ill  he  were 
i   heen    coming    for 
af    her  arrival   were 
i   yellow    envelopes 
»    nearly  prostrated 
The   first    read, 
Btill     have    hopes." 
not  yet  reached,  but 
'♦Come     directly  if 

nglis: — "How  can 
or  water?" 
route.    At  this  sea- 
et." 


rir  TBt  HOSPITAL. 


407 


*♦  When  can  we  make  connections  at  Dover  ? " 
"  You  will  have  three  hours  to  rest,  and  then  be 
in  time  to  take  the  train  at  Charing  Cross  for  the 
night  boat.  I  will  see  you  safely  on  board  the 
cars.  You  need  have  no  further  anxiety  about  it, 
but  try  and  get  some  rest,  and  a  little  sleep,  if 
possible." 

She  thanked  him,  when  he  withdrew,  leaving 
the  two  alone.  Mildred  tucked  her  up  comfortably 
in  bed,  drawing  the  curtains  closely,  hoping  she 
might  get  the  much  needed  sleep,  and  then  went 
to  a  window  anxious  to  catch  every  possible  glimpse 
of  London.  The  crowded  street  and  huge  brick 
buildings  seemed  little  different  from  what  she 
was  accustomed  to,  but  the  associations  were  not 
the  same.  Centuries  before  the  New  World  had 
been  trodden  by  any  save  the  red  man's  foot,  this 
same  street  had  been  the  centre  of  active  life. 
Men  and  .  women  had  passed  to  and  fro  upon  it 
talking,  it  may  be,  of  their  good  King  Alfred,  or 
the  wild  doings  of  the  cioiel  Normans ;  or  specu- 
lating as  to  the  success  of  the  Crusaders,  or  eager 
of  the  news  of  the  martyrdom  of  Cranmer  and 
Wyokliffe,  or  the  execution  of  the  fair  Anne 
Boleyn.    Shakespeare  had  no  doubt  walked  there 


1^ 

u 


'^^■-. 


imMlltWiiHi 


'  } 


408 


MILDRKD    KSNT'B    HEMO 


in  company  with  Shylock  and  Romeo  and  Juliet 
and  those  other  wonderful  children  of  hi»  bmin, 
less  like  Hhadows  of  the  people  of  tonlay  than  the 
men  and  women  who  walked  the  streets  with  him. 
A  knock  at  the  door  disturbed  the  fancy  that  hiul 
gone  80  far  afield,  and  with  it  the  summons  to  be 
shortly  in  readiness  for  another  journey  of  a  thou- 
sand miles  and  more.  When  she  entered  Mrs.  Ever- 
ett's room  the  table  was  laid  for  quite  an  elabo- 
rate dinner. 

"  Must  we  eat  again  so  soon  ? "  she  asked  with 
some  consternation,  for  they  had  betu  -supplied 
with  hot  cocoa  and  toast  when  they  came. 

"You  are  in  England  now,  where  eating  is  the 
extreme  of  fashion,"  Mrs.  Everett  said  with  a 
wan  smile.  "But  we  may  not  have  such  a  com- 
fortable dinner  for  some  time,  and  I  want  you  to 
enjoy  it." 

"And  you?" 

"I  shall  dine  and  sup  on  sorrow  for  the  rest  of 
my  life,  I  fear.  I  find  it  soon  surfeits."  She  burst 
into  a  passionate  fit  of  weeping,  Avhich  alarmed 
Mildi-ed,  who  had  not  learned  that  the  most  dan- 
gerous grief  is  tearless.  The  woman  waiting  on 
them  had  known  Mrs.  Everett  for  years,  and  said 


omeo  and   Juliet 

n   of  \m   bmiii, 

of  today  tlmii  the 

streets  with  him. 

he  fancy  that  had 

16  aummonH  to  be 

ouniey  of  a  thou- 

intered  Mra.  Ever- 

r  quite   an   elabo- 

she  asked  with 
Id  be  MX  supplied 
hey  came, 
lere  eating  is  the 
rett  said  with  a 
lave  such  a  com- 
id  I   want  you  to 


•w  for  the  rest  of 
■feits."  She  buret 
If,  which  alarmed 
(it  the  most  dan- 
oman  waiting  on 
ir  years,  and  said 


/If  THK  HOariTAL. 


409 


tenderly.  "  A  h,  that  will  do  you  good,  ma'am  —  I 
was  hoping  to  see  you  cry."  There  was  something  so 
strong  and  patient  about  her  that  Mildred  took  a 
liking  to  her  at  once,  that  increased  as  she  saw 
more  of  her  through  the  coming  years.  Mr.  Inglis 
soon  came  to  take  them  to  the  station,  and  after 
that  the  hours  went  slowly  as  they  left  mile  after 
mile  behind  them,  though  Mildred  watched  with 
eager  eyes  the  constantly  shifting  landscape  from 
tlie  car  window.  Distant  mountains,  a  glimpse 
now  and  then  of  the  ocean,  villages  and  quiet 
hamlets,  long  stretches  of  lovely  country,  with  now 
and  then  a  busy  city,  lay  in  their  line  of  travel  — 
until  at  last  their  journey  was  ended.  They  had  left 
the  winter  somewhere  behind  them,  and  it  seemed  de- 
lightful to  step  out  into  the  warmth  and  sunshine 
of  May.  Thoy  went  directly  to  the  hospital,  finding 
it  a  gloomy-looking  building,  presided  over  by 
dull-faced  monks  and  nuns,  whose  natures  had  be- 
come dolorous  by  reason  of  their  8unx)undings. 
Mrs.  Everett  shuddered  as  she  explained  her  er- 
rand, in  French,  to  a  hard-faced  monk  who  listened 
stolidly,  and  then  conducted  them  through  long, 
dimly-lighted  corridora  to  the  cot  where  Douglass  lay 
tossing  in  the  delirium  of  fever.     But  it  was  such 


--1 


410  MILDRED  KENT^B  HERO. 

rapture  to  know  thex^   wa«   life,  if   nothing  more, 
that  her    face    after  a  time   lost   something  of  ite 
ashen  hue.     This  English  milord,  as  they  reckoned 
him,   received   the    best   their   hospital  afforded  in 
the  way  of  nourishment,  attendance  and  skill ;  and 
the  monk  led  the  two  ladies  to  the  sickbed^ with 
a    very    conscious    air    of    deserving   their  thanks. 
Douglass  was  tenibly  changed;  but  stUl  his  mother 
did  not  requii^  the  name  marked  on  his  hnen  to 
prove  his  identity.     As   Mildred   stood  looking  at 
L,  the  conviction  came  that  with  his  mother  s  pray- 
ers  and  tender  ministries,  his  case  was  far  from  hope- 

..You  will  give  u.  directioM   and   permit  m   to 
assist  in  taking  ca«  of  him?"  .he  asked  the  doc- 
tor, who  «s  at  the  hedside.    The  constmotion  ^ 
™„„mav  *e  found  quite  easy  hut  her  Wngue  id 
^work  so  readily  a.  her  hrain  in  .  atrange  Ian- 
™^.    He  gave  her   to   ondemtand   .t  ™.  eon- 
^to  their  rule,  to  permit  strangers  such  pnvr- 
leJI.     Mrs.  Kverett.lK,ke  eagerly:"  We  wUl  pay 
any  sum  you  name  for  the  privilege." 

He  ah«>k  hie  head  douhtfully,  but  Mddred 
fancied  there  wae  a  wavering  look  in  his  fece^ 
»Tell  him  Douglass  wiU  be  8u,«  to  get  weU  J. 


HERO. 

:e,  if   nothing   more, 

it   something  of   its 

)rd,  as  they  reckoned 

hospital  afforded  in 

dance  and  skill ;  and 

to  the  sick  bed,  with 

serving   their  thanks. 

but  still  his  mother 

rked  on  his  linen  to 

red    stood  looking  at 

with  his  mother's  pray- 

ase  was  far  from  hope- 

ns   and   permit  us   to 
"  she  asked  the  doc- 

The  construction  and 
y  but  her  tongue  did 
rain  in  a  strange  lan- 
deratand  it  was  con- 
;  strangers  such  privi- 
agerly :  *'  We  will  pay 
privilege." 

btfully,    but    Mildred 
ig    look   in    his    face. 

sure   to   gfet  well   if 


IN  THE  BOBPITAL. 


411 


he  has  those  he  knows  about  him,"  she  urged 
Mrs.  Everett  to  say.  Whether  it  was  the  two 
pleading  faces,  or  the  hope  of  a  rich  gift  to  the 
hospital,  that  influenced  him,  they  could  not  de- 
cide; but  he  began  to  relent  and  promised  to  lay 
their  case  before  the  authorities,  and  in  the  mean- 
time gave  them  permission  to  remain  until  a  de- 
cision was  arrived  at.  Then,  recommending  a 
hotel  that  was  near  at  hand,  he  despatched  a  mes- 
senger for  the  luggage. 

Tii-ed  and  travel-stained  though  Mrs.  Everett 
and  Mildred  were,  they  did  not  think  of  rest  un- 
til they  had  first  attended  to  Douglass.  Mildred 
discovered  the  scarcity  of  ice,  and  soon  had  that 
most  necessary  article  abundantly  supplied,  while 
many  another  comfort  usual  in  sick  rooms  was 
also  conspicuous  by  its  absence. 

"  My  poor  boy,  how  he  has  suffered ! "  the  mother 
mojined.  Meanwhile  she  very  vigorously  set  about 
having  a  radical  change  made  in  his  attendance. 
Mildred  was  a  novice  in  a  sick  room  save  what  she 
had  learned  among  such  families  as  the  Carvers; 
but  she  had  a  genuine  woman's  nature,  and  the 
light  touch  and  healing  instin  ';  came  to  her  nat- 
urally.    More  than  this,  her  cheerfulness  and  coup- 


iVimirti'vi 


412  MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

age  upheld  them  wheil  they  were  ready  tp  despair. 
The   fever   turned,  and  Douglass    still  Uved;  but 
the  vital  forces  were   so  overdrawn,    the    question 
^  whether  nature   could   ultimately   rally.     The 
rdtemations  of  hope   and   despair  were    bitteiN  but 
when  the   delirium  was  passed   the    mother    found 
an  aUeviation  of  her  pain  in   the  look  of  recogiai- 
tion  in  her  son's  face.     He  was  too  weak  to  show 
surprise  when  he   saw   ihem   at  his   beside.     At 
fi„t  in  the  dim  light  he  mistook  MUdred  for  Lady 
Alicia;  but  one  morning  she  was  surprised  to  hear 
her  own  name  whispered. 

"Are  you  here,  too,  MUdred ?" 

"Yes." 

»*When  did  you  come?" 
«With  your  mother,  a  week  ago." 
"And  Alicia;  is  she  not  here?" 
«She  had  left  for  Enghmd  before  we  c*'"*'- 
He  asked  no  more  questions;  and  after  that  Mil- 
dred did  not  hear  her  name  mentioned.    But  she 
wondered  if  it  was  the  usual  custom  wi^  lad,es  of 
i^nk  to  leave  their  deareat   friends    to  the  care  of 
strangers  when  near  the  gates  of  death. 

As    the  daya  wore    on,  the   fear  grew  stronger 
in  the  hearte  of  those  who  tended  him  that  Doug- 


--1 


HERO. 

ire  ready  tp  desptdr. 
^    still  lived;  but 
rawn,    the    question 
imately   rally.     The 
iir  were    bitter,  but 
the    mother    found 
;he  look  of  recogni- 
LB  too  weak  to  show 
Bt  his   bedside.      At 
K)k  Mildred  for  Lady 
was  surprised  to  hear 

• 

d?" 


k  ago." 
ere?" 

.  before  we  came." 
is ;  and  after  that  Mil- 
mentioned.    But  she 
il  custom  with  ladias  of 
friends    to  the  care  of 
)8  of  death, 
he  fear  grew  stronger 
tended  him  thatDoug- 


418 
IS  THE  HOSPITAL. 

U«  had  been  «U.d  with  .  .peedy  decline,  and 
but  tor  Mildred-,  bright  *u>e  and  eheertul   wora^ 
both  he    and  hi.  mother   would  have    given    up 
hope,    in  eve,y  other  face  he  ™«1  *'  "T"^ 
„«.  of  hi«  ».».;  but  when  he  turned  to  her,    « 
ah.  bent  over  Uu^  bathing  W.  hot  face  «.d  .d- 
„ini.t.ring    m«Uoin.  and    nouri.hn,ent    w.*    *. 
a„,u»nd   other  offlee.   the  loving  watche.-  by  the 
riekied   minlBtens  he  «emed  .»  gabx   the  u»P-»- 
tion   of  conrage  and  .trength  from  her  .trong  v.t.1- 

1  When  the  enmrner  eome^  and  we  get  you  homo 
to  Gm^mere.  yon  wiU  get  weU  din»>fly,"  .he  «d 
one  day,  when  the  eonverMtion  h»l  beon  dr.ftmg 
dangeron.lv  near  to  dea&heds  and  gr«v«.  «A 
long  >«t  tb.re,  and  work  for  a  good  many  ^ 
befL  heaven-.  .«.t  will  come,"  .he  »nd,  ^  cbeeiv 

ily,  that  he  asked:  — 

"How  can  you  speak  so  certainly?  Every  one 
else,  by  their  faces,  assure  me  that  I  will  never 
do  any  work  again." 

u  Perhaps  it  is  the  Lord,"  she  said  solemnly.  "I 
have  asked  for  your  life  .,  great  many  times,  and 
I  always  feel  that  my  prayer  will  be  granted. 

uBe  i^.  unto  you  according  to  your  faith,"  Mrs. 
Everett  mt^nnured  fervently. 


bi)..,.,wm!fl 


-t 


414 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


44  If  I  get  better  you  wUl  have  more  to  do  with 
it  than  doctora,  or  anybody,  I  believe.  Your  face 
i8  like  a  tonic  amid  the  sun-ounding  gloom." 

"It  would  be  grand  missionary  work  to  help 
you  to  live,"  Mildred  said  with  great  satisfac- 
tion. "You  can  do  so  much  good  with  your 
money  and  talents." 

"You  are  still  thinking  of  missionary  work?" 
"Yes,  I  have  the  impression  that  I  shall  be  one 
some  day,  the  same   as   I  have  tluvt  you  will   get 

well." 

"The  prospect  for  the  latter  is  veiy  poor  just 
now,  but  who  knows  what  miracles  are  aheatl  of 
us?    I  may  oe  well,  and  you  a  missionaiy,  in  the 

course  of   time. 

44 1  do  not  think  it  would  be  a  mu»cle  for  me 
to  be  a  missionary.  It  is  just  the  overcoming  of 
a  few  obstacles  — that  is,  if  G<hI  wants  me." 

"But  you  cannot  be  a  missionary  and  artist 
both.  My  mother  tells  me  your  teacher  expects 
g.eat  things  from  you  some  day." 

Mildred    looked  at   Mrs.   E  /erett  with  flushed, 
surprised  fa   >.     "Did  he  speak  to  you  about  me?" 
4' Oh  yes,  several  times.     But   you   seem   so    in- 
different to  praise,  I  did  not  repeat   his   words    t« 
you." 


-  -t 


HKRO. 

re  more  to  do  with 
elieve.  Your  face 
iding  gloom." 
ary  work  to  help 
ith  great  satisfac- 
good    with    your 

isHionary  work?" 
that  I  shall  be  one 
tluvt  you  will   get 

is  veiy  poor  just 
•acles  are  aheatl  of 
a  missionaiy,  in  the 

y&  a  miracle  for   me 
,   the  overcoming   of 
od  wants  me." 
lissionary   and   artist 
■our   teacher   expects 

v/." 

;/erett  with  flushed, 
I  to  you  about  me  ?  " 
ut  you  seem  so  in- 
repeat   his   words    to 


415 
IH  THE  HOSPITAL.  **" 

ul  am  not  accustomed  to  it,  but  if  I  believed  I 
waa  worthy  of  it,  I  would   like   it."  she  saidhou- 

estly.  1 

.1  am  glad  to  hear  you  confess   to   that   weak- 
ness, if  it  is  a  weakness.     Most   persom.    disclaim 
their  liking  for  it,  but  they  are   the   ones  usually     . 
«ost  eager  to   have   the   admiration   of   their   fel- 

lows,"  Doughiss  said.  ,     ^     , 

uif  I  were  away  on  some  beautiful  island  where 
it  is  always  summer,  I  could  teach  and  paint,  too. 
I  would  have  few  distractions." 

uBut  what  would  be  the  use  of  painting,  ihere 

would  be  no  one  to  admire  or  buy  your  pictures." 

«I  would  need    veiy  little   money  among   those 

simple  people." 

u  You  have  reached  an  altitude  of  unworldhness 

so  elevated,  it  nearly  takes  my  breath  away." 
"Your  breath  is  very  short  just  now." 
ult  would  have  the  same  effect  on  me  if  I  were 

a  prize  fighter. 

.That  is  a  healthy  remark.     You   will   live   to 

be  an  athlete  yet." 

.Not  if  I  must  lie  on  this  tiresome  cot  m  this 

crloomy  room."  ,  ,   „      * 

uBe  patient  just  a  little  while,  and  we  shall  get 


-'] 


416  MiLOBSD  KENT'S  BERO. 

you  out  Of  this  hoHpitol.  It  wiU  be  like  passing  into 
another  world  to  get  into  an  easy  carnage  and  go 
out  on  the  lovely  lanes  and  countiy  roads  outside 
of  Lisbon.  I  am  anticipating  the  pleasure  we  three 
will  have  admiring  all  those  beautiful  bit«  of  scen- 
eiy  together,  instead  of  one  alone." 

»'Then  you  have  quite  decided  not  to  send  me 
to  the  cemeteiy,"  he  said  with  a  cheerfulness  that 
charmed  his  mother. 

ul  have  never  felt  aa  if  we  should  pUnt  you 
there  and  go  back  alone  to  Grassmere.  Thei-e  is 
such  a  long  stretch  of  life  in  the  next  world,  I  like  to 
hold  closely  to  this  one  that  is  so  brief,  and  yet 
so  impoi-tant,  and  to  have  othei-s  who  may  be  a 
help  to  this  world  do  the  same." 

.alike  to  hear  you  talk  that  way.  Geneinlly 
you  seem  so  unworldly,  and  like  some  stmy  spmt 
from  brighter  places  than  our  earth,  that  you  give 
„,e  an  uncanny  feeling  very  often,"  he  said,  while 
watehing  her  getting  ready  for  her  daUy  walk  in 
the  park  and  public  gardens. 

uMust  I  get  a  printed  phicard  with  the  assui^- 
ance  that  I  am  of  the  earth,  and  fasten  it  Uke  the 
Jews'  phylacteries  on  my  forehead?"  she  asked 
with  a  smUe  that  was  still  not  joyous. 


1 


^.ii~#<*fc,...._^_- 


BEBO. 

be  like  passing  into 
asy  carnage  and  go 
(untiy  roads  outside 
the  pleasure  we  three 
eautiful  bits  of  scen- 

one." 

led  not  to  send  me 

I  a  cheerfulness  that 

e  should  plant  you 
Irassmere.  There  is 
e  next  world,  I  like  to 
is  so  brief,  and  yet 
thei-s   who   may  be    a 

ne." 

that  way.  Genei*lly 
like  some  stray  spirit 
r  earth,  that  you  give 
often,"  he  said,  while 
or  her  daily  walk   in 

Mjard  with  the  assur- 
,  and  fasten  it  like  the 
forehead?"  she  asked 
not  joyous. 


-'\ 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


HOME  AOAIX. 


'HEN  the  June  nwes  wei-e  in  bloom,  and 
Grassmei-e  looking  like  another  new-creat- 
ed Eden,  Mra.  Everett  and  DougUws  came 
home.     The  latter  was  still  sometlung  of  an  invaUd, 
but  all  immediate  danger  was  passed.     Mildred  was 
glad  to  get  home  to  Mulberiy  Street  too,  although 
the   monUis  she  had  spent   loitering  in  the   splen- 
did ai-t^aUeries   of  Rome   and   Paris  and   London, 
and  in  the  coucei-t  halls  of  those  gi«at  cities,  had 
been  the  i-ealizatiou  of  a  dream  that  with  the  mar 
jority  of   people  is  never   fulfUled.     There   was   a 
good  deal  of  discoui-agemeut  mixed  with  her  eager- 
ness to  be  again  at  her  easel;   for  she  had  brought 
back  with  her  humblmg  ideas  of  her  abiUty  to  ao- 


«u 


■  ^'--'.■'  *-*..-■,  ^y^f»*''^i 


— 1' 


aOME  AGAIN. 


419 


XIIT. 


N. 


wei-e  in  bloom,  and 
ke  another  new-creat- 
bt  and  Douglass  came 
letliing  of  an  invalid, 
massed.  Mildred  was 
Sti-eet  too,  although 
iteiing  in  the   splen- 

Paris  and  London, 
ose  gi'eat  cities,  had 
n  that  with  the  mar 
filled.  Thei-e  was  a 
nixed  with  her  eager- 
1   for  she  had  brought 

of  her  ability  to  ac- 


complish anything  worthy  the  expenditui*  of  time 
and  money,  or  to  add  pictures  to  the  vast  number 
p,««rved  so  carefully  by  the  gwat  cities  in  their 
splendid  galleries  of  paintings. 

Some  weeks  after  her  arrival  home,  she  calmly 
announced  to  her  mother  that  she  was  going  to  of- 
fer hex-self  directly  to  the  Mission-Board  for  sei- 
vice  in   any   pai-t  of  the  world  they  chose  to  ap- 

point  her. 

"I  am  sui-prised,  MUdred,  to  hear  you  say  that. 
I  thought  you  had  decided  to  be  an  artist.  You 
have  such  a  love  for  painting." 

"I  have  thought  about  that.  Pictures  are  not 
Bpocially  needed  in  the  world  now;  at  least  you 
would  not  think  so  if  you  were  to  visit  the  ci-owded 
galleries.  Besides,  I  cannot  feel  free  to  give  my- 
self  up  wholly  to  art." 

"But  you  have  such   talent  for  it,  and  I  have 
hoped  to  see  you  famous." 

u  I  would  Uke  to  have  people  look  at  my  pic- 
tures with  admiration,  but  they  would  go  away 
and  soon  forget  picture  and  painter,  and  not  be 
really  helped  either  to  love  God  or  help  their  gen- 
eration, by  looking  at  them.  If  I  can  do  the 
people  good  themselves,  that  wiU  be  a  work  done 


■***«SSt*?*«S6»^^f^'  " 


^  .^ 


410  MILDRBD  KENT'S  HERO. 

ihftt  will  IwJt  forever.     I  think  those  who  do  such 
work  are  the  ones  the  angels  reckon  fumous." 
"  My  life  will  be  veiy  desohite  without  you,  my 

child." 

wYou  will  know  I  am  in  the  world  loving  you 
still,  nnd  in  (lod's  keeping,  doing  His  will." 
"If  God  cjiUs  you,  that  must  decide." 
Mildred  wais  silent ;   but  at  last,  raising  her  eyes, 
which   were    full    of    tears,  she    said:   "You   must 
not  think  it  is  no  hardship    for  me    to   leave  you 
and   the   children   and    my   other    friends;    and    I 
would   choose    to   be  a  painter,  if   it  were   right; 
but  I  have  found  my  work   lies   far   off   from   aU 
that   I   love    best.     Maybe    God   wants    me   to   go 
away  alone,  to  show  me   how  much  He  can  be  to 
me,  because  it  cannot  make  much  difference  about 
my  work;  for  I  am  only  a  weak   girl,  with  littie 
power  or  influence." 

"You  >vill  not  lack  those  qualities,  Mildred,  if 
you  give  yourself  up  entirely  to  the  Lord.  I  wUl 
bid  you  God-speed,  and  send  you  cheerfully  to  the 
remotest   comer   of   the    earth,    if   the   Lord    calls 

you." 

"We     shall     have     a    long    eteniity     together, 

mother." 


'HO. 

lOHe  who  do  Buoh 
(Oil  fnmoiu." 
without  you,  my 

world  loving  you 
His  will." 

decide." 

b,  TiUMiiig  her  eyes, 

said :   "  You   must 

me  to  leave  you 
r  friends;  and  I 
if   it   were   right; 

far   off   from   all 

wants  me  to  go 
uch  He  can  be  to 
ih  difference  about 
k  girl,  with  little 

nlities,  Mildred,  if 
the  Lord.  I  will 
1  cheei-fuUy  to  the 
if  the   Loixi   calls 

eternity     together, 


Mi 


ffOMK  AOAtH. 


4tl 


Mildred's  voice  trembled  as  she  sjioke ;  but  after 
that  neither  renewed  t);e  conversation  again.  When 
the  answer  came  to  bur  application,  and  titey  found 
that  she  was  to  be  sent  the  Indians  in  Dakota, 
there  was  a  veiy  perceptible  lightening  of  counte- 
nances in  the  family  circle  at  No.  6  Mulbniry 
Street.  The  salary  was  so  much  in  excess  of  her 
expectations,  that  she  began  to  think  the  chances 
for  self-immolation  were  greatly  inferior  to  what 
they  once  were.  Now  they  could  send  Paul 
through  college;  and  if  he  was  only  able  to  do 
his  part,  he  might  make  choice  of  any  profession, 
and  be  able  to  succeed. 

She  went  out  to  Orassmere  one  bright  morning 
in  August,  to  carry  her  good  news.  How  fair 
Mother  Earth  looked  as  Mildred  walked  under  the 
trees ;  the  busy  span-ows  hopping  nlong  at  her  side ; 
the  higher-toned  birds  canying  on  their  loves  and 
industries  in  the  leafy  fastnesses,  or  higher  still, 
a  little  below  the  clouds  in  the  far  blue  ocean  of 
ether ! 

It  seemed  so  grand  to  her  as  she  walked  there, 
very  indifferent  to  th<)  fine  oaniages  with  their  ele- 
gant occupants  rolliiv_;  past,  to  be  in  harmony  with 
the  God  who  made  all  this   beauty  and   to    work 


Ml 


% 


422 


MILDRED  KBST'B  HKMO. 


for   Him  — to   be    Hii».     She   Bcarcely  conf««ed  t« 
heiw^lf   Hhe   had  a  fancy  aH   to   what   earUily   love 
might  mean;   but  i-e»olutely  punhing  «uch  thoughts 
away  nhe  found  her  joy  -  i)erlmp«  a  higher  one- 
in   letting  her  life  be  a  thoroughfai-e   for   the   sin- 
ful  and  weary-heai-teil,  mther  than  for  the  one  who 
might  have  been  too  idolati-oiwly  loved.     Her  face 
WW  beautifully  serene  m  she  halted,  accoitling   to 
custom,  on   the   marble   steps,   and  looked   around 
at  a  scene  such  as  she  might  not  again  feast  her 
eyes    on,  after   she   had   said    good-bye    to   friends 
and  home,  until  the  heaven  wliich  Giiissmcre   had 
heli.ed   to    make    real    should   become   her   etemal 
habitation.     As  she  stood,  after  ringing  the  bell,  in 
the   hush   that   pervaded   eai-th   and   air,  fi-om   the 
distant  musicroom  there  came   the  heavy  tones  of 
the  gimt  pipe^i-gan.     The  maid  who  answered  her 
summons  infomed   her  that  a  good  many  visitors 
hml   come  within  a  day  or  two,  and    that   now  a 
music   prefessor,  all   the  way   frem    Gei-many,  wa» 
playing  on  the  organ. 

u  Will  you  go  right  in?  There's  so  many  they 
won't  know  but  you've  been  here  right  along," 
Bhe  said  encoumgingly,  for  Mildred  was  especiaUy 
liked  by  the  Grassmere  sei-vants. 


i  i 


«■ 


JKMO. 

roely  coiifewMMl  to 

what   etirtlily   love 

hiiig  HUch  thoughts 

iw  n  higher  one  — 

hfara   for   the   sin- 

ail  for  the  one  who 

y  luved.     Iler  face 

alted,  accoitling   to 

find   looked   ai-ound 

lot  again  feant  her 

jfood-bye    to    friends 

ilch  Giiuwnicre   had 

become   her   eternal 

ringing  the  bell,  in 

and   air,  fram    the 

the  heavy  tones  of 

I  who  answeitNl  her 

good  inany  visitors 

o,  and    that   now  a 

i-oni    Gei-many,  was 

lere's   so  many  they 

hei-e    right  along," 

dred   was  especially 


BOMK  AOAIN. 


4M 


**  I  can  listen  just  as  well  outside  tlie  door  of 
the  music-room." 

"  For  ray  part  I  think  it  soundii  better  outside. 
He  makes  such  a  noise  sometimes,  you'd  think  the 
whole  house  shook.  I've  liad  to  Iw  in  and  out  a 
good  many  times  with  messages." 

As  Mildi-ed  listened,  the  souikIm  piYKliice<l  wera 
certainly  very  uncommon.  The  music,  for  the  most 
part,  was  new  to  her;  but  she  was  thrilled  as  by 
the  thunder's  rail  or  roar  of  ocean.  A  voice  witli- 
in  her,  or  k  it  seemed,  whispered:  "Wliat  a  loss, 
to  go  off  among  uncivilized  people  and  never  listen 
to  such  hai-monies  again!"  She  listened  dreamily 
to  the  sob  and  swell  of  the  organ  i-esponding  to 
the  touch  of  its  master  like  a  thing  of  life.  Sud- 
denly the  measure  clianged  to  a  minor  key,  and  a 
now  spiiit  spoke  to  her.  It  was  as  if  voices  of 
tlie  lowly  and  sorrowful  wei-e  ciying  for  succor 
with  an  infinite  despair  to  those  who  could  help, 
but  were  at  ease.  Dusky  hands  seemed  lifted  in 
pleading  and  sad  faces  ^evQ  tui-ning  to  the  dark- 
ness of  death  without  knowledge  or  hope  of  the 
hereafter.  Tlie  tears  fell  softly  on  the  dimpled 
folded  hands,  nor  were  they  teai-s  of  regi-et,  —  rather 
of  gladness,  for  the  music  had  brought  its  message 


-  ! 


424 


MILDRED  KENT'S  BEXO. 


>lKi 


of  strength.    It  was  like  a  battle-call  to  duty,  while 
presently  the  fancy  grew  upon  her  that  there  is  in 
music  a  spirit  which,  in  other  worlds,  we   may   see 
embodied  in  form  of  splendid  seraphim.     At  last  the 
organist  ceased,  and  then  through  the  half-closed  door 
there  issued  pleasantly  modulated  voices,  from  the 
flute-like  tones  from  girlish  lips  to  the  deep  bass  of 
the    burly   German    Professor.    Then   they    began 
drifting  out  into  the  wide  hall  where  Mildred  was 
sitting.    They   were    all    strangers,   until    at    last 
Douglass  appeared  in  the  door.    He  soon  spied  her 
sitting  apart  from  the  rest,  a  trifle  ill  at  ease,  and 
he  came  directly  to  her.     "  You  have  come  to  spend 
the   day?"   he    questioned,   eagerly.     She   cast  an 
eloquent  look  first  at  her  own  simple  morning  cos- 
tume   and    then    at    his    guests,    and    shook    her 

head. 

"Never  mind,"  he  whispered,  *nth  manly  disre- 
gard of  such  trifles ;  "You  look  better  than  any  of 
them." 

"How    can   you  say    thfctl"  she   said,   with    a 

smile. 

"I  will  leave  it,  if  you  are  willing,  to  the  gen- 
tlemen present  to  decide."  He  turned  mischiev- 
ously around  and  cleared  his  throat. 

"  Oh,  no  ra  1  I  will  go  right  home." 


_.: --t 


„.«>»ftU»ii^ilS'J-' 


BERO. 

ie-call  to  duty,  while 

her  that  there  is  in 
rorlds,  we  may  see 
aphim.  At  last  the 
1  the  half-closed  door 
ted  voices,  from  the 

to  the  deep  bass  of 
Then   they    began 

where  Mildred  was 
gers,  until  at  last 
He  soon  spied  her 
rifle  ill  nt  ease,  and 
I  have  come  to  spend 
pgerly.     She   cast  an 

simple  morning  cos- 
its,    and    shook    her 

d,  *jith  manly  disre- 
k.  better  than  any  of 

"  she   said,   with    a 

willing,  to  the  gen- 
He   turned  mischiev- 
throat. 
;  home." 


HOME  AQAiS.  *25 

uThen  I  shall  drive  you,  and  it  will  be  cmel 
to  take  me  out  in  the  dust  this  morning,  you  have 
no  idea  how  it  makes  me  cough." 

«I  thought   your  cough   was   nearly  well,"  she 

said,  anxiously. 

"  It  is  not  so  bad  when  I  keep  out  of  the  dust," 
he  said  drdy.     "We  are  going  to   have   luncheon 
under  the  trees,  and   afterward  a  sail  on  the  lake. 
The  bottom  is  fastened  securely  in  the  boat;  I  ex- 
amined it  myself,  to  make    your  mind  eusy,  for  I 
expect  you   will   spend  a  great   many   hours  in  it 
after  this."     He  smUed  down  into  the  rather  wist- 
ful face;  for  Mildred  thought  the  hours  weie  very 
few  that  she  would  spend  on  the  leaf-bound  lake. 

Mrs.  Everett  presently  joined  them.  "  You  are 
just  in  time,  dear,  for  a  long  day's  outing.  Our 
visitors  are  all  strangers  to  you,  I  think.  You 
will  let  me  present  you,"  she  said,  taking  Mildred's 

arm. 

She  was  charmed  especiaUy  witii  Professor  von 
Staaden,  her  eyes  wandering  by  turns  from  his 
mobUe,  intellectual  face  to  the  long,  muscular  fin- 
gers, which  had  such  skill  and  strength  to  bring 
out  the  organ's  hidden  harmony.  Before  very  long 
he  had  dJaoovered   her  hero-worship  for   men   and 


426 


MILDKED  KENT'S  HERO. 


women  of  genius,  and  repeated  story  after  story 
from  personal  reminiscences,  more  for  the  pleasure 
of  looking  into  the  eager,  enthusiastic  face  than  for 
any  particular  interest  he  took  in  them,  save  for 
the  gifts  they  had  confeiTed  on  the  world. 

"  I  would  like  so  much  just  once  to  ioimh  hands 
and  speak  with  some  one  who  will  be  admired  five 
hundi-ed  years  hence,"  she  said  at  last  with  a  sigh 
of  regi-et  at  the  improbability  of  her  desire  e/er 
being  fulfilled. 

"What  gain  vould  there  be  in  that?" 
"It  would  seem  to  keep  one  in  touch  with  an 
age  so  remote  from  us.  It  i»  melancholy  to  look 
ahead  a  century  or  two  and  know  that  sun  and 
earth  and  men  will  not  know  we  ever  Lved.  One's 
great-grandchildren  might  hold  our  memory  for  a 
century,  but  probablv  not  for  two,"  she  said  so- 
berly. The  professor  smiled  to  hear  this  pure-faced 
girl  talk  in  such  a  matterof-fact  way  of  possible 
great-grandchildi-en. 

"  But  we  have  our  lives  now,  and  they  are  very 
good.  What  need  we  think  of  centuries  long  after 
we  are  dead?" 

"I  know  it  is  childish,  but  it  grieves  me  to 
think  there  will  be  a   time   when    Grassmero   will 


HOME  AOAIN. 


427 


ERO. 

.  story  after  story 
e  for  the  pleasure 
iastic  face  than  for 
in  them,  save  for 
the  world, 
nee  to  lonoh.  hands 
irill  be  admired  five 
It  last  with  a  sigh 
)f   her  desire   e/er 

in  that?" 

in  touch  with  an 
nelancholy  to  look 
low  that  sun  and 
?  ever  Lved.     One's 

our  memory  for  a 
wo,"  she  said  so- 
hear  this  pure-faced 
ct  way   of   possible 

,  and  they  are  very 
centuries  long  after 

b  it   grieves   me  to 
len    Grassmero   will 


not  retain  the  faintest  memory  if  ite  present  gentie 
mistress,  who  makes  so  many  glad." 

ult  is  the  fate  of  nearly  all  ho  come  into  the 
world.  Is  Cleopatra  any  happier  to  be  remembered 
now  than  the  forgotten  beauties  of  her  day?" 

ul  should  much  prefer  the  fate  of  the  forgotten 
ones,"  MUdi^d  said,  cheerfully. 

"Then  you  will  acknowledge  it  is  only  a  moi> 
bid  sentiment,  this  longing  to  be  held  m  remem- 
brance by  generations  coming  after  you." 

ul  am  enjoying  this  day  very  much,  even  with 
the  certainty  of  ultimate  annihilation  of  all  trace 
of  me  under  the  sun.  It  will  b.  one  of  the  days 
I  shall  relive  when  alone,  and  perhaps  a  bit  sor- 
rowful." 

"Yes?"  he  said;  with  the  rising  inflecUon  of 
voice  which  means  so  much  when  poUteness  forbids 
a  question  outright. 

"I  am  going  away,"  she  explained,  seeing  the 
questioning  look  in  his  face.  "  I  have  been  ac 
cepted    as   missionary  teacher   t»   the   Indians    of 

Dakota." 

He  started  with  surprise.    "Why  is  that?    Par- 
don me,  must  you  do  it  from  necessity?" 

Mildred  smUed  genUy :  *'  The  same  necessity,  to 


-  - 1 


M 


■fl 


m 


428 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


compare  the  small  with  the  great,  that  compelled 
St.  Paul  to  tell  ijeople  of  Chiist  and  the  way  to 
be  happy  forever." 

The  professor  was  silent.  PerliaiM  he  thought 
they  liad  remained  long  enough  apait  from  the 
rest  for  he  presently  proposed  joining  them.  On 
tlieir  way  Mildred  said:  — « I  should  like  to  have 
some  more  of  your  music  by-and-by.  I  could  not 
tell  you  how  it  helped  me  to  foi-get  mj'self  this  morn- 
ing. Probably  I  sliall  never  hear  such  music  again 
until  I  get  away  up  tliere."  She  raised  her  eyes 
to   the    sky    above    them  —  not   more  serene   than 

they. 

"I  am  sony  you  have  chosen  such  a  lot." 
Douglass   joined   them   then,    and   tlie   professor 
said:  "Did  you  know   your  friend  hei-e    is   gouig 
away?    To  Dakota,  is  it  not?"   he  said,   turning 
to  Mildi-ed.     Douglass  stopped  abruptly. 

"Nonsense!  She  is  not  going  anywhere  untU 
her  teacher  says  we  may  send  her  to  Italy." 

"  But  she  is  going  to  teach  the  Indians,  she  tells 
me,  and  that  veiy  soon." 

"Can  tliat  be  tnie,  Mildi-ed?  Surely  you  would 
have  told  us  firet."  There  was  surpiise  and  pain 
both  in  his  voice. 


-  1 


rili 


TEXO. 

it,  that   compelled 
st  and  the    way  to 

erliaps  he  thought 
gh  apart  from  the 
joining  them.  On 
should  like  to  have 
id-by.  I  could  not 
jet  m^'self  this  mom* 
iAV  such  music  again 
ihe  raised  her  eyes 
t   more  serene   than 

II  such  a  lot." 

and  tlie  professor 
iend  hero  is  going 
"  he  said,  turning 
ahruptly. 

ing  anywhere   until 
her  to  Italy." 
he  Indians,  she  tells 

Surely  you  would 
suipiise   and   pain 


i 


BOMK  AOAIS. 


429 


''I  ciune  out  on  purpose  to  tell  you  to-day.  I 
should  not  have  mentioned  it  to  Professor  Von 
Staadeii  only  that  his  music  helped  me  to  be  strong 
tills  morning,"  she  said,  with  a  break  in  lier  voice. 

**Then  you  would  radier  stay  with  us,  and  go 
on  with  the  painting?" 

**It  is  not  what  one  would  rather  do,  but  what 
God  wills." 

^  But  there  are  plenty  to  go  who  have  not  your 
prospects.  It  will  be  no  loss  to  have  tliem  buried 
a  few  yeai-s  among  savages.  You  must  not  go, 
Mildi«d." 

She  binished  away  a  few  tears,  and  then  quick- 
ly regaining  her  self-control  said  quite  calmly :  "  We 
won't  spoil  this  perfect  day,  with  arguments. 
Let  us  cease   thinking  of   any   day  after  this." 

'**I  cannot  do  that.  We  must  spend  hvmdreds 
of  other  days  just  as  perfect  together.  You  would 
rob  me  of  all  chance  to  pay  the  debt  I  owe  you. 
Do  you  know.  Professor,  I  believe  that  but  for 
Miss  Kent  I  should  be  in  my  gi-ave?  You  have 
no  idea  how  clever  she  is  —  entirely  too  clever  to 
waste  hei-self  on  a  parcel  of  dull  Indians." 

"  Please,  Douglass,  let  us  leave  that  topic." 

He  looked  down  cmiously  at  her.      Only  onoe 


vm- 


V*' 


480  MILDRt:D  KENT'S  HERO. 

before  Uwi  she  spoken  hU  name  in  Im  hewing. 
Some  way  it  never  sounded  so  musically  from  any 
lips  as  here.  He  would  willingly  have  heard  it 
drop  lingeringly  from  her  lips  veiy  often.  "I 
want  to  enjoy  the  boaUail,  but  cannot  unless 
you  give  me  the  promise." 

"It's  a  melancholy  fate  to  be  an  only  child. 
They  ai-e  never  content  unless  they  have  theix- 
own  way,"  Mildi-ed  remarked  sympathetically. 

"And  you  must  help   to   spoil   me."      She   did 
not  give  the  promise,  however.     She  liad  no  other 
opportunity   that   day  to   discuss  tlie  question  fm- 
ther  ynth  Douglass,  or  his  mother  either.     She  was 
giieved  to  learn  that  he  was  opposed  to  her  work. 
She  had  not  ex)>ected  anji^hing  of  the  kind;  mther 
she    had   looked   for    their    hearty   congratulations 
that    the    plans    of    her    youdi    wei*    bemg    ful- 
filled. ^     ,       , 
When  she  got  home  in  the  evening,  she  found 
a  letter  from  the  Mission -Boai-d  awaiting  her,  with 
the  request  that  she  would  start  for  her  new  field 
of  labor  du-ectly.     Her  face  giew  pale  as  she  i-ead, 
and   thei-e    was   a  veiy  peroeptible   ti'emor   in   her 
voice.     Giuce  laid  her  book   away   and  began    to 
cry,   whUe   Paul  left. the   i-oom   ti-jdng  to  whistle, 


ffOMK  AGAIN. 


431 


me  in  his  hewing, 
musically  from  any 
ngly  have  heai-d  it 
M  veiy  often.  "  I 
but    cannot   unless 

>  be  an   only  child. 
188   they    have    their 
sympathetically, 
poil   me."      She   did 
■.     She  liad  no  other 
ass  tlie  question  fm- 
ther  either.     She  was 
opposed  to  her  work, 
g  of  the  kind ;  mther 
learty   congratulations 
itli    wei-e    bemg    fui- 

10  evening,  she  found 
n-d  awaiting  her,  with 
tai-t  for  her  new  field 
grew  pale  as  she  i-ead, 
eptible  ti-emor  in  her 
;  away  and  began  to 
oom   tiying  to  whistle, 


,„,   it  ended    in    a   dismal  failu..Th    ef- 
face suddenly  l«ded.    Butshesa.dbmvely:"It.« 
„„  honor,  my  child,  to  be  called  so  young  by  tJ^e 
Loid  to  make  such  a  sacrifice  for  H«  work. 
uYou  ai-e  willing  to  let  me  go,  mother? 
uYes,  willuig,  though  a  little    heaaiso.^   at   ^e 
long  sepai^tion.     But  we   shall  have  a  meetmg  by- 
a,^d.by,  to  be  followed  by  no  farewell." 

For  some  time  thero  was  silence  save  for  Graces 
suppressed  weeping,  and  then  the  mother  sa.d,  w.^ 
J  accustomed  cheerfulness:  "  Did  you  have  a  mce 

visit?" 

"Yes."  .        *     r»„. 

uWhat  do   they  say  about  youi-   going   to    Da- 

kota  ?  " 

ul  l«d  no  good  opportunity  to  mention  xt  to 
M™.  Evex-ett,  but  DougUss  spoke  strongly  agaxnst 
it.  Oxxly  think!  he  spoke  as  if  they  meant  to 
send  me  to  Italy  afU,r  I  got  tWgh  wx^  -X 
teacher  here.  Thuxgs  genexully  happen  that  way 
The  good  we  cxi.ve  for  half  a  lifetime  comes  just 

"^uyI'  must  not  think  of  what  might  have  been. 

God  loves  a  cheex-ful  giver."  . -a^ 

.It  has  been  a  Uying   day,  and  I  am  a  trxfle 

gloomy  to-night." 


482 


MILDRED  KENT'S   HEHO. 


*»Why  has  it  been  trying?" 

.Oh,  everything    was    bo    lovely    the«,    and   I 

,W«d  the  thought  that  it  waa   one  of    my  la«t 

•    f-      the  very  last,  if  I  had  but  known -and 

visits— tne  very   "w«'i  -rwak- 

then  Douglass  seemed  so  sorry,"  m..  added,  speak 

"'pI^'^L  summoned  and   they  had  prayers,  and 
no  mor.  was  said  that  night  about  tiie  approaching 
separation.    MUdred  went  out  to  Graasmere   agun 
thrTollowing  day  to  say  good-bye,  but  found  them 
.11  away.    She   left   a   message   for   M«^   Ever^ 
and  Douglas,    and  then  went   to  see   Mr.  Fdton 
and  her  other  friends.    Thei«  was  a  painful  same- 
ness  in  their  remarks,  for  each  «id  all   seemed   to 
tiunk  she  could  do  as  acceptable   mission  work   at 
home  as  to  go  away  among  Indians. 

The  hour  came  all  too  soon  when  the  farewell 
had  to  be  taken  of  the  dear  ones  whose  faces  ri. 
dexed  the  pain  they  felt  at  separation.  And  the 
ioumhy  began  without  the  pleasing  anUcrpaUon  of 
1  con^nial  tormination  among  friends  ..d  happy 
surrounding.,  which  so  gi^.ay  hel;«  to  hght.n  the 
tedium  of  a  long  and  solitary  journey. 


I   HEKO. 


Lovely  there,  and  I 
g^aa  one  of  my  last 
id  but  known  — and 
^,"  tu~  added,  speak- 

ihey  had  prayers,  and 
about  the  approaching 
t  to  Graaamere   again 
i-bye,  but  found  them 
ige   for   Mrs.   Everett 
Qt   to  see   Mr.  Felton 
e  was  a  painful  same- 
ch  wid  all   seemed   to 
table   mission  work   at 
Indians. 

K)n  when  the  farewell 
ones  whose  faces  in- 
separation.  And  the 
jleasing  anticipation  of 
jng  friends  and  happy 
iy  heli«  to  lighten  the 
ry  journey. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

mtSIOlI  WOBK. 

®i®     otato  region  »!»»  neither  6tr»«n  nor  lull 
^  to  r.«>h  of  MUd»d-.  lone^hted  ™.on.    A 

loneline..   «  d.y.   wore  into  »»««,  tat*™ 
e^.  .tao  *  growing  <^<^» '"^^  ^'J^^ty 
dow  but  «»  nntoMing  of  «>-~"»' »  "^ 
pupiU,  n-king  her  gn,w  -'•-■'««"'"*  ^ 
«  1 J  „t  tahor     The  ohiUron  by  degree,  oanght  the 

XlTheren^^^^^^^^^tS 
-  fr.  V»«r  ewrer  attempts  to  waken  tneir 
UD  in  response  to  ner  e^wr  «»«"«   r 
Iw  in  Jeo*.     Her  reUgion  w»  «.   n.«eh  .  p»t 


434  MILDRED  KENT^B  HERO. 

of  her  nature  that  it  influenced  the  minutest  actions 
«s  well  as  words  of  her  daily  intercourse  with  them, 
while  in  her   own    experience   things   unseen  were 
becoming  more  i-eal  and  delightful    tluin   anythmg 
connected  with  this    world.     There    was,  for  these 
half-civilized  boys  and   girls,  a  peculiar   fascination 
in  her  descriptions  of  the  spirit-world,  -  its  inhabi- 
biutB,   its    glories,  and  the    occupations   that  were 
in    no  danger  of   interruption    by   death.     All  the 
employmenta  of  their  daily  life,  their  lessons,  their 
Illations  to  each  other  and  parents  and  friends  they 
were  taught  to   regard   in   the   light   of   unending 
existences   and  the   worth   or   worthlessness   of  aU 
worldly  things  as  measured  by  these.     Her  modes  of 
instruction  were  not  regulated  after  any  models  she 
had  herself  been    taught,  while    for   each   one  she 
had  special  rules  which  she  considered  best  suited,  to 
his  or  her  individual  needs.     Her  classes  wei«  not 
trained   like   masses    of   soldiers   under   drill  as  is 
nowH^ys    the  rule,  as  if   childi-en  could  be  cast 
in  moulds  like  so  many  candles.     And  day  by  day, 
as  she    saw   her   work   changing   the   actions    and 
habite  of  thought  of  her  pupils,  it  brought  a  con- 
tentment  of  heart  that  she  had  never  found  at  her 
easel.     Each   morning  was   welcomed  with    fresh 


rsRO. 

he  minutest  actions 
ercourse  with  them, 
hings   unseen  were 
ful    tlian   anything 
lere    was,  for  these 
peculiar   fascination 
world,  —  its  inhabi- 
upations   that  were 
by   death.     All  the 
,  their  lessons,  their 
mts  and  friends  they 
light   of   unending 
worthlessness   of  all 
hese.     Her  modes  of 
utter  any  models  she 
e    for   each   one  she 
sidered  best  suited,  to 
Her  classes  were  not 
jrs   under   drill  as  is 
ildi-en  could  be  cast 
,es.     And  day  by  day, 
ing   the   actions    and 
ils,  it  brought  a  con- 
id  never  found  at  her 
welcomed   with    fresh 


MIBBION  WOHK.  "^ 

„tiA«tion  «.  .he  l«ok«l  o»t  over  th,  d.,'.  dutie» , 
«ch  evening  m*  tluuJdulne-  .t  Uie  ™»«re  of 
.ucoe»    th.t  h«l   oK-wned   th.  Ubon,  of  the  day. 
There  w-re  dtoeoumgemente  «.d  hitter  he.rt«ch,. 
over  th.    nemdichl.  t»int  .in  h«l  l.ft  in  eon.,  of 
her  eh^ge..  while  gr-e  and  p.ti.no.   wen,  ri.ke 
proved  to  the  ntmo,t  in  dealing  w.th  the«..     And 
L  th.  d.y.  «.d  month,  had  flowed  on  nnt.1  they 
rolled  into  year^  withont  a  glimpK.  of  one   farnd- 
i„  f^.    She  tried  to   hu.h   the  cry  m  her  h«rt 
for  mother  and  home    and   th.   familiar  «.n«.  of 
yonth   by  cnltivating  a  home.f..ling  for  herapher. 
of  toU.    By  day,  amid  it.  oe.«le»   »ot.v.^«*  '"^ 
h.d  a  me«.«re  of  .acee«;  but  in   th.  hour,  o 
™k.fnln«»  that  one  h»i  h..n  p««d  m  ple«.nt 
fanoie.  or  .tar^p^lug.  the  old  heart-hunger  or   hem 
„,  c«n.  hack  in  fnll  fore..     She  h«l  pa.n^  th«n 
„  many  time..  ..   well  a.  the   fr.end.  at   Gr»^ 
n,.r.,  L  h.r   pupil.  «<^  »  -"  '^^''^'f 
^th   them   a.  wi&  th.  dignified  prmeipal  of  to 
.ehool,  who  .«dly  took  le«  p«t  in   it  than  a  !«. 
novoUnt  neighbor  might  do  if  .«oh  th«e  h»l  l«.n 
Z  th.  vioiJty  of  th.  «=hool.    Toward,  the  clo.. 
0,  her  third  ye«  her  motner,  for  th.  iiret  t,m.  «- 
pre»rf  a  wiah  for  h.r  retom  home;  and  «Aed  that 


V 


I' 


mmm 


miii 


486  MILDRED  KENT'S  BEBO. 

it  might  be  immediate.     With  Bome  Burpri-e   but  a 
Hudden    lightening  of  heart,  she  i^ceived  the   com 
,nand,  and  prepared  to  obey   it.     There  ^vere    hUU 
Home  Bix  weeks  remaining  before  the  school  closed 
for  the  summer  holidays;  but  they  were  the  very 
gladdest  weeks  perhaps  she  had   ever   expenenced. 
Only  those  who  have  denied  themselves  for  dutys 
Bake,  and  still,  in  obedience  to   duty,  accept   what 
their  hearts  cry  out  for  passionately,  can  understand 
the  full  measure  of   her   gladness.    She   bade  her 
pupils    good-bye: -a  few    weeks    sepamtion    fmm 
their  teacher  did  not  affect  them  Beriously,  and  they 
watehed  her  departure  with  stolid  faces.     Each  sta. 
tion  reached  on  that  journey  sent  a  thnll  of  pleas- 
u,^    to   her   heart;  and   when    the   final   one   was 
i^hed,  and  a  glimpse  wan  caught  of  her  mother, 
BO  little  changed  that  it  might  have  been  yestei- 
day  that  she  had  parted  from  her,  she  felt  it  was 
worth  while  having  been   created   for  tlie   rapture 
concentrated  in   that  brief  moment.      Mildred  ran 
to  her  outwai-dly  calm,  only  the  shining  eyes  and 
glad  face  betraying  any  unusual  emotion;  but  she 
was  not  prepared  for   the  vigorous  grasp  in  which 
her  handt   were  seized  by  a  tall,  handsome  youth, 
and  her  lips  saluted  in  most  impetuous  fashion. 


irfMi 


mm 


J\ 


BEHO. 

orae  surpriae,  but  a 
I  received  the  com- 
,.  There  were  still 
re  the  school  closed 

they  were  the  very 
1   ever   experienced, 
henwelves  for  duty's 
»   duty,  accept   what 
ately,  can  understand 
less.    She   bade  her 
eks    separation    from 
m  seriously,  and  they 
tolid  faces.     Each  star 
sent  a  thrill  of  pleas- 
i    the   final   one   was 
caught  of  her  mother, 
;ht  have  been  yestei-- 
n  her,  she  felt  it  was 
lated   for  tlie   rapture 
loment.      Mildred  ran 

the  shining  eyes  and 
isual  emotion;  but  she 
jorous  grasp  in  which 

tall,  handsome  youth, 
t  impetuous  fashion. 


MIBBIOS   WORK. 


487 


u  l8  it  Paul  ?  "  Bhe  asked,  amazed ;  for  no  other 
lad  would  act  in  such  unseemly  fashion. 

..  Don't  you  know  me,  Mildred,  that  you  ask  that 

question?" 

ul  would  never  think  it  was  my  dear  brother 
Paul,"  8he  said,  squeezing  the  hands  that  still  wer^ 
holding  her  own.  "  And  is  this  Grace  ?  "  she  asked, 
turning  to  a  slender  golden-haired  maiden  who  very 
slightly  resembled  the  sister  she  had  left. 

Jack    Carver  was   there  too,    with  a   full-grown 
moustache  and  stylish  cane,  and  looking  genei-ally 
BO  comfortable  that  one   would    never   have   taken 
him   for  a  member  of    the   Carver  family.    After 
they  got  home  from  the  station  and   the   tea   had 
been  taken,  and  they  sat   chatting  in  the  twilight, 
they  found,- though  Mildred  had  changed  httle  in 
either   looks    or   costume,  for   they  could   see   her 
garments  were  the  same  she  took  .nth  her  and  the 
fashion  uniiltered,-itwas  not  the  same  Mildred  that 
had  left  them.    The  soUtude  of  soul  in  which  her 
days  had  been  passed  had  matured  and  elevated  her, 
as  it  only  can  do  the  noblest  natures.     Jack  stayed 
so  late  their  patience  was  nearly  ended  with  him; 
for  in  these  first  hours  it  was  each  other  they  wantr 
ed  exclusively.      And  then  Jack  had   so   much  to 


H 


4S8  iilLDBED  KEtff'S  ttSRO. 

tell  about  himself,  his  success  as  a  lecturer  and 
man  about  town  generaUy,  ihat  he  was  reaUy  the 
only  hero  of  the  evening  -  Mildx^d's  work  and  sac- 
rifices  looking  very  humble  in  comparison  with  his 
acMevemente.  But  Jack  tore  himself  away  at  hist, 
and  then,  with  a  satisfaction  such  as  they  alone 
know  who  have  a  conscience  at  peace  with  all  the 
world,  MUdred  looked  at  hei  own  home-circls. 

«  Do  you  know,  this  must  be  something  like  the 
homcHsoming  to  the  heavenly  phices  when  all  our 
loved  ones  are  safely  gathered  there." 

u  Everything  is  Heaven  with  you  yet,  Mildred, 

Paul  said. 

"It  ought  to  be,  when  she  had   only  Indians  to 
look   forward    to    in    this    world,"    Grace    remon- 

strated. 

"She  is  done  with  Indians  now.  I  guess  Jack 
means  to  keep  her  for  his  missionary,  by  the  way 
he  watched  her  to-night." 

"I  would  prefer  my  Indians  to  Jack's  conversa. 
tioa  for  the  rest  of  my  life.  They  have  the  .jrace 
of  ^iilence  to  recommend  them,  if  nothing  else." 

"  When  you  see  Douglass  Everett,  you  will  reckon 
your  Indians  are  only  savages.  He  has  improved, 
if  Jack  hasnV 


M^ 


wno. 

as   a  lecturer  and 
he  was   really  the 
■ed's  work  and  sac- 
lomparison  with  his 
imself  away  at  last, 
ach  as   they  alone 
i  peace  with  all  the 
wn  home-circla. 
I  something  like  the 
laces  when   all   our 
there." 
you  yet,  Mildred," 

tiad   only  Indians  to 
rid,"    Grace    remon- 

now.    I   giiess   Jack 
ssionory,  by  the   way 

J  to  Jack's  converse- 
They  have  the  flfrace 
I,  if  nothing  else." 
irerett,  you  will  reckon 
I.     He  has   improved, 


489 
MIBBIOS  WORK. 

uTell  me  all  about  tlie  Everetts,'^  she  said,  with 

brightening  face. 

u  They  are  away  a  great  deal.    Douglass  studies 

and  works  as  hard  as  if  his  living  depended  on  it. 
"What  is  he  going  to  do?" 
«He  is  literaiy;  M-rites   for  the   magazines  and 
reviews.    I've  heard  say  he  is  smart." 

«I  am  so  glad,  so  glad."  She  spoke  softiy, 
with  a  thrill  of  joy  in  her  voice.  « Ever  since 
that  first  day  at  school,  he  has  seemed  to  belong 
to  me  in  some  mysterious  way.  I  hope  he  wdl 
be  a  very  great  and  very  g«K)d  r..an.  I  am  certain 
he  will  be  brave  and  noble." 

« I  hope  you  won't  say  all   those  fine   things   to 
him,  Mildred.     You  are  so  unlike  every  one  else," 
Paul  said,  anxiously.    "It  would  be  just  like  you; 
and  men  don't  always  understand  some  girls. 
"Why,  Paul,  what  do  you  mean?" 
i*  Never  mind;  only  promise  not  to  say  anything 
.Uke  that  to  Douglass  Everett." 

'»you  need  not  fear,  my  cautious  brother.    What- 
ever  I  may  say  to  him,  he  will  unierstand  what  I 
„,ean.      To  hear  you  talk  and  look  at  you  makes 
„,e  feel  as  if  you  were  some  other  girl's  bi-other, 
she  said,  with  her  ams   about  his   neck,  her  lips 


pressed  fondly  to  the  downy  cheek. 


440 


MILDRED  KENT'S  BERO. 


Tii-ed  nature  assei-ted  her  rights  and  the  convex 
satiou  was  suspended  for  k  few  hours.  The  next 
morning  Mildred  announced  that  she  was  going 
out  to  Gi-assmei-e. 

"Won't  you  wait  for  them  to  call  on  you  first?" 

Paul  asked. 

"  Why,  Paul,  how  fastidious  you  have  grown." 
"They  are  the  leaders  of  fashion  in  these   parts 
I  guess.    Anyway,  they  ai-e    neck   and   neck  wd., 
the  best ;  and  its  the   fashion  to  wait  until   folks 

call  on  you." 

"Kot  very  elegantiy  expi-essed.     My  boys  would 

never  use  such  slang  to  me." 

»  They  talk  like  the  dictionarjs  no  doubt.     I  ex- 
pect they  are  a  precious  lot  of  piigs." 

« Oh  no ;   they  only  talk  like   well-trained  boys. 
I  do  not  encoun^  pedantry." 

Paul  had  no  suitable  reply  ready,  and  so  was 
compelled  silently  to  watch  MQdred  put  on  her 
old-fashioned  hat  and  start  for  Grassmere.  He  had 
been  more  successful  in  making  fiiends  among 
his  schoolfeUows  at  Park  Avenue,  and  had  thei^ 
fore  imbibed  the  pi-evaUing  spiiit  of  the  school  far 
more  deeply  than  she,  and  was  foreed  to  endure 
the  pettiness  and  i-estrictions  of  a  social  world  in 
which  he  had  no  foothold. 


M^ 


[its  and  the  conveiv 

hours.      The  next 

hat   she  was    going 

I  call  on  you  first  ?  " 

you  have  grown." 
hion  in  these   parts 
eck   and   neck  witl. 
to  wait  until   folks 

ed.     My  boys  would 

ir)',  no  doubt.    I  ex- 
piigs." 
le  well-trained  boys. 

ready,  and  so  was 
Mildred  put  on   her 

Grassmei-e.  He  had 
king  fiiends  among 
mue,  and  had  thei'e- 
iiit  of  the  school  far 
ras  forced  to  endure 
of  a  social  world  in 


441 
MISSION  WORK- 

As  Mttdred  walked  along  the  accustomed  street, 
AS  Muareu  ^    ^^^ 

which  years  ago  had   been   mo« 
Id,  L  houses  in  many  places  separated  by  fields 
^g^lns,  she  was   grieved  to  see    these  green 
*i      filled    UD    with    gi*nd    residences, 
spaces    mosUy    filled   up  jn     ^ 

Already  she  was  beginnmg  to  miss  me 
^ledom  of  Dakotan  soUtudes.  Like  -y  a. 
other  she  was  often  t«mpt«d  to  wish  human  be- 
C  ;-  ^ewer  in  number  and  of  bett^r^^^^ 
Sh^  loitered  along  the  way  after  P^-g  ^e  ga^ 
keeper's  lodge  and  receiving  a  shy  BmUe  ^om^e 

little  t«t8  who  peeped  at  her  through  the  roses, 
littie  t»t8  w       F-^  ^^^^  ^^y^ 

The  eldest  was  a  »«»  *»^y  ^™     ^  ,  .     _i,_ 

^d  now  thei.  were  thi^  smUing  a^  her.    Ab  j^ 
nearcd  the  house  Paul's  suggestion  began  to  trou^ 
neareu  «  ,         „  ^_-    „,,d  with  no  messages 

her.     After  so  long  a  time,  ana  wiw 

•«„  f^  and  fro  save  what  was  conveyed  in  her 
passing  to  and  fro  sa  ^ 

mother's   letter,  they   might  not,  i  k 
ready  to  begin  an  intimacy  intennipted  thi^e  years 
:t..    wl  finally  she  reached  tbe  -h^^^^^ 
'       on  which  her  feet  halted  timidly  on  her  fii.t  visit 
Li.,  something  of  tiie  old  feeUng  -M— 
of  her;  but  quickly  ascending,  J^^^f^;^;^^^^ 
A  familiar  face   gi^t^d  her  coMiaUy,  foi  t      .e^ 
vanl«  at  Gitissmei.  remained  in  Mi.  Everctts  em- 


i 


442  HILDRED  KENT'S  HEM. 

ploy  year  after  yeaiv  and  Urn  maid  had  known 
Mildred  ii-om  a  littie  girl.  "  We  did  not  kaow 
you  were  home.  M«.  Everett  and  Mr.  Douglass 
will  be  veiy  glad  to  see  you,"  she  said,  heartUy. 
"Have  you  many  visitors,  Jane?"  MUdi-ed  asked, 

anxiously. 

"Not    many.      Lady    AUcia    Merton    is    here, 

though." 

»I  am    only    going  to    stay    a   short    time.    I 
would  like  to  see  Mrs.   Evei-ett  just   a    few  min- 

utes  alone." 

Jane  led  the  way  to    the    libi-ary.      "You    ai-e 
pi-etty  sui-e  not  to  be  distuibed  hew   so   eaily   in 

the  morning." 

How  weU   Mildred  remembered  the  great,  dim 
room,  with  its  huge  piles  of  books  lining  shelves  that 
reached  fi-om  floor  to  ceiling  all  around  the  walls.    It 
was  little  changed.   The  same  luxurious  fumitui*  in- 
viting i-epose  of  body,  whUe   the   mind  was   luxu- 
liating  in  realms  of  fancy  or  abstract  thought  with 
a  favorite  author,  foi-getting  for  a  while  mental  pain 
and   worries   of   life.       Presently   a   portiere    was 
was   dmwn   aside,  and  Mrs.   Evei-ett  came   swifUy 
to  her  side.     How  reassuring  her  greeting !    "  Is  it 
really  Mildred  come  to  us   again?     You   ai«   wel- 


M«nBVV|^m>*H''M<^'i«l'^ 


■Mi 


^^mSmm 


nERO. 

maid  had  known 
We  did  not  kaow 
,  and  Mr.  Douglass 
'  she  said,  heartily, 
le?"  Mildi'ed  asked, 

k    Merton    is    here, 

r    a   short    lime.    I 
tt  just   a    few  niin- 

library.      "You    ai-e 
id  hei-«   so   eaiiy   in 

lered  the  great,  dim 
jks  lining  shelves  that 
around  the  walls.    It 
uxuiious  furniture  in- 
the   mind  was   luxu- 
ahstract  thought  with 
or  a  while  mental  pain 
intly   a   portiew    was 
Everett  came   swiftly 
her  greeting !    "  Is  it 
gain?     You   ai-e   wel- 


MI88I0S  WORK. 


448 


come,  my  child,"    she  said,  saluUng   ^^   -    J^^ 
^dlips.    "Are  you  glad  U,  be  home  aga^n? 

uToo   glad,  I   am   afmd.     It   seems  so   pleas- 
ant." , 

u When  did  you  reacli  home/ 
wnen  oi    y  j  did  not  wait  long  for 

"Last  evemng.     You  see  i  ui« 

a.  fflimnse  of  Grassmere." 

ft  giraipse  o  ^^^  ^^^^ 

u  You  are  one  of  the   lew  wuu 
their  friendship  with  the  yea«."      ^^ 
uNor  with  the  eternities,  I  hope, 
.^e  same  old  MUdred  has  come  hack  ^t  left 

^.    The  spirit  -world  stiU  holds   y^-J^^^^^^ 
But  I  must  tell  DougUss  that  you  ax^  hex^.    You 

will  stay  with  us  to-day." 

:,  J  ten,  ^  you  have  ™iU,r,.    I  d«e  »ot 

ttie  m.  for  a  femU  Wp  V«i  ^u^'- 

»Yo»  a«  my  gueet  and  Wend,  Mdd«d.    It  » 
I  „ho  decide  il  your  e«tu.e  ta  •«"»«»•  J*^^ 

^  »*aed  ^a.  yoor  .pP«>»-o-   iwdir-""* 

^d  fetch  IX"*;;""     ^,  ,,  .„^„d  «.h  hi. 

A  few  moments  atterwaruB  v^„-i«d 

mother     Could  it  be  possible  this  bxt>nzed,  beax^ 

W  bovish  k^gbt  and  hex.,?     He  came 

:irwir.^:lne^  of  oUxer  da.  in  voice 


I 


-^  -1 


444 


MILDRED    KEffT'B    HERO, 


and  manner.  "It  is  the  same  Mildi-ed -- almost 
luichanged,  who  left  us  so  unceremoniously  with- 
out even  saying  good-bye;  but  we  wUl  forget  the 
seeming  neglect  in  her  promptness  to  say  How 
do  you  do?"  There  was  a  trace  of  the  boyish 
voice  in  the  tones,  deeper,  moi-e  musical  now. 

"I  came  out  to  say  good-bye,  but  you  wei-e  aU 
away.     Did  not  the  servant  tell  you? 

"This  is  the  first  intimation  we  have  had  of 
youi-    thoughtfulness.    Not    even    a    line    to    my 

mother." 

"I  am  so  pained  that  you  so  misjudged  me  aU 
these  yeai-8.  And  I  would  so  ghidly  have  writ- 
ten if  I  had  thought  my  letters  would  be  wel- 
come." Her  face  looked  very  sorrowful  to  the  eyes 
studying  it  so  intently. 

"My  mother  trusted  you  all  the  time,  MUdi-ed. 
She  never  changes  to  the  few  she  takes  into 
her  heart  of  heai-ts,  and  you  may  be  sure  you 
have  one  of  the  warmest  places   there." 

"Next  to  himself  I  believe  you  have  the  warm- 
est. It  is  so  good  to  liave  you  back  with  us,"  Mrs. 
Everett  said,  in  a  A^-ay  that  brought  the  Uood 
bounding  veiy  i-eassuiingly  to  the  lightened 
heart. 


■Htoi 


HKRO, 

le  Mildi-ed"  almost 
iceremoiiiously  with- 
t  we  will  forget  the 
ptness  to  say  How 
trace  of  the  boyish 
loi-e  musical  now. 
lye,  but  you  were  all 
»U  you? 

on  we  have  had  of 
ven    a    line    to    my 

so  misjudged  me  all 
BO  gladly  have  writ- 
Btters  would  be  wel- 
r  sorrowful  to  the  eyes 

all  the  time,  Mildi-ed. 
few  she    takes    into 
ou    may  be  sure  you 
aces  there. 

a  you  have  the  warm- 
[>u  back  with  us,"  Mrs. 
t  brought  the  blood 
r    to     the    lightened 


445 
MIBBION   WORK. 

.And  back  for  good,  is  it  not,  Mildred?  "  Doug- 

lass  asked.  ,    ,    .  t 

«0h,  no!     I  think  we  all  understootl  that  I  was 

to  return  when  my  vacation  was  ended." 

"Thi-ee  yeaw  must  satisfy  your  Indians.  The 
painting  must  have  its  turn  now.  Or  have  you 
laid  that  on  the  altar  of  sacrifice  too?" 

uNot  wholly.  I  have  painted  Gi-assmere  audita 
n^aster  and  mistress  a  good  many  times."  Mildred 
bethought  hei.elf  then  of  Paul's  words,  and  wished 
she  had  not  made  her  confession. 

uYou  wUl  let  me  diive  you  home  this  evening, 
and  grant  me  a  look  at  your  studies." 

«But  I  am  going  now.  I  nhould  not  have  de- 
Udned  you  so  long  from  your  friends,"  she  said, 
turning  to  xMi-s.  Everett. 

uWe  have  no  friend  that  gives  us  so  mucb 
pleasui-e  to  look  at  just  now  as  you." 

«Ard  lie  music,  Mildred.    We  have  an  organ- 
i«t  witii  us  to-day  almost  as  good  a«  Von  SiBaden 
whom  you  admired  so  much.    You  must  stay  wi^^ 
^_yom-  motiier   will   not  look   for  you.       He 

touched  the  bell.  ,     ,,    * 

•        There  w»  .  look  o.  app«d  on  MUd^d'e  f^e  » 
d„  t„™ed  to  M».  Everett,  «.d  mumuted,  "Wont 


■^^i^'-^m^-^i^m 


44G  MILDRVJ^  KFST'B   r'lfX 

you  excuse  me?    It  would  1-  too  W   discipline 

to  meet  vour  vi»itoi-8." 

»N„„^,«e,  my  cWld.  Betm«d  ™Won.ne»  ... 
not  .urix-ed  to  l>e  «l.re»»t  of  Ih.  I«-hio.«. 

..Wtat  »!■«  you  talking  about,  moUie.? 

"StoU  I  tell  liim.  MiU.-eJ?  But  men  do  not 
.l«y,   .ympatluze  «tU   «-   i"    our   litUe   martyr- 

*Ti  ,vin  go  home  now,"  »l.e  »iA  decWvely^ 

»  You  mn»t  fl«t  come  to  the  muMCroom     Where 
to  Alim?"  he  questioned  of  hU  moUiev. 
"Is  Lady  AUcia  the  organist?" 
-Yes.  I  l,Up  superbly  no..     She  »U1  be  gl»d 
toWosuchalUtencr.yo..."     He  was  h*w.y 
r,,^,.e   stai.,    .hen  he    turned   sudde.dy  a,«und 
llw  down  at  his  mother  and  Mildred,  who  W 
Il!d  him  into  a.e  hail.     -  You  must  ,uahe  her 
the  off  her  hat.     I  sl».ll  have  the  feeing  tha    *. 
„m   slip   a,v»y   from  us  if   we  »«  not  watohmg. 
;rs,llve;autho..aUvely.     "She  has  a  *.ulty 

"'D:';l!!CHndly  manner  put  her  tho^ughly  at 
JZ,  so  she  took  off   her   hat  obediently,  and 
and  dropped  it  auelessly  on  a  ohau-. 
!ir"your  custom   to   treat  your  milli~e.y  - 


n  r-nx 

B  too  luud  discipline 

iUMied  missionaiies  ai-e 
f  the  fashions." 
»out,  moUier?" 
1?     But   men   do   not 
in    our   little   mai-tyr- 

lie  said  decisively. 

lie  rausic-ioom.     Whei-e 

£  his  motlier. 

nist?" 
now.     She  will  be  glad 

oy  "     He  was  half-Avay 

u-ned  suddenly  aiound, 

1-  and  Mildred,  who  had 

» You  must  make  her 

Mve  the  feeling  tliat  she 

•   Ave  ai-e  not  watching." 

sly.     "She  has  a  faculty 

51-  put  her  tlioroughly  at 
her   hat  obediently,  and 
on  a  chair, 
ta-eat  your  milliner)'  in 


447 

MIS8I0S   WORK. 

in  that  unceremonious  fashion?    I   have   been  led 
to  regaid  that  portion   of  lady's  attii^  with  gieat 

'Tyou  need  not  exercise   that  faculty  on   behalf 
of  mine,  smce  I  manufaotm-e  tliem  myself " 

.They  wUl  be  greater  objects  of  x-eve.  .ce  an 
ever  if  I  find  your  skUled  ftnge«  h,  3  ^ 
them.    I  shall  look  upon  them  as  ^-^  -  nJx.n 

She  l«.ked  up  .t  urn  oddly.  ..Y.«d,dn^». 
t„U».,n.e.  P.ul  h«  told  me  ^v.  .  «ul  «>■"«» 
.bo«t  you,  tat-"  .he  .topped  .bnipfly. 

„You  do  Bot  think  hi.  de-cription  doe,  mo  jm- 
U„e.  After  *e  have  been  together  .  wWle  longer^ 
you  may  make  di»=overie.  yom«>U,"  he  «.d  humo^. 

"tyon    o«>   make   me   feel  beautifully   at  home 
here.  That  i.  an  art  you  have  not  lo.t. 

»Why,  MUdred,  you  looked  .u.  t<ghtened  »hen 

I  came  into   the  ™m  io   ».e  yon   ju.*  a  mom^ 
.go,  ,.  you  did  yea.  ago,  when  you  ^ck^  the 

door  the  fti^t   Ume  you  came  here.    H   I  had  m 
Mgea  -  -«««'•  '""   "°"'*   1-ve   .hpped  out 
Tl  1  hou»  like  a  gho.t  and  been  half-way  home 
by  this  time." 


448 


MILDRED  KENT'B  HERO. 

1 1  .«  very  near  dipping  out  Wore  I  ™.^ 
in,  «hen  J«..  told  n,e  of  your  oompW.__  II  ^o™ 
.0  ataurd  tor  me  to  be  here  with  them. 

„So  it  doe»,  now  that   I   tbrnn    o 
But  never  mind,  you  -hall  have  the  mn..e.     Md 
"Z  wine«l  at  hia  remark,  «.d  onee  .^e   -h«^ 
hereelf  at  home.     Looking   at  h™  presently  ah. 
«.„  a  miaehievoo.  gleam  in  his  eye. 

..It  ia  like  a  ehapter  ont  of  romance,  to  be 
teaching  Indian,  one  week  and  a,e  nest  hobnob- 
teacmng  Mtreme  of 

bing   with   society   people,  lakmg  «i 
Uf/at  a  hound,  ao  .,  .peak.     No  «»*«'  J™    "^^ 
UtUe  aelf^oneoioua  .l»ut  your  appe««>oe:  but  we 

are  not  «.  particular  about  •?>?<»«-«"  """J  "^ 
feUow.  at  Park  Avenue  m^d  to  be.    »«* '■"'>"'*.  ^ 

i"ul  to  them  ,  Uithad  notW'-*--^^^ 
^  I  should  never  have  discovered  you,  and  bu 
Tyou,  Mildred,  I  have  the  impreaaion  I  .hould  no^ 
Z,  atanding  here."  Hi.  faee  wa.  «.h.r  now,  hn^ 
T  ■„.  ™der  a  new  emotion  that  made  him 
eyea  .oftemng  under  a  new  ^^j;^  taide 

look  positively  regal  to   «»   girl    .landing 
wL     With  a  sudden  introep«=tion  .he  wondered^ 
^^  a  sort  of  »lf-pity.  «  "»  "O"-*  »"'  X 
:,,  again  a.  at  ...t  —  ^^7— 
the  rustic  of  musUu  drapery  on  the  floor 


'  JJ«^8fiKV»*''S«*-*f^'''"*-''' 


HERO. 

)ut  before  I  was  well 
rcompwy.    It  seems 
ivith  them." 
think    of    it    calmly, 
tave  the  music."    Mil- 
nd  once  more   wished 
It  him   presentiy   she 

his  eye. 

t  of  romance,  to  be 
,nd  the  next  hobnob- 
ftking   the   extreme   of 

No  wonder  you  are  a 
u-  appearance:  but  we 
ipearances  as  our  school- 
to  be.    But  I  should  be 
t  been  for  their  snobbish- 
iBCOvered  you ;  and  but 
mpression  I  should  not 
je  was    sober  now,   his 

emotion  that  made  him 
3  girl  standing  beside 
gpection  she  wondered, 

she  would  ever  be  so 
oment.  A  moment  after 
ry  on  the  floor  recaUed 


449 
MIBBION   WORK. 

I::    Lady    AUoia    .ppr««h-a  puz-led  .ad  not 
„,.r*>ttofted  .xpr«.ion  on  hor  taoe. 

.Ah,  here  yon  .«1"  DongU«  ».d^  "*')'«* 
Wy  Mad«d  Aonght,  when  «idre».ng  -noh  . 
leMly    MU  ^^       ,OT    you, 

notable  pe«on.    "W'r,'  „^„tar    e«.h 

to   get   some    muBio.      You    wui   " 

°^,^y  AUei.  howe,'  ^th  a  aUtely  '««^'y  l"^ 
„  j.Ung  to  poor  Mildred,  not  acou.ton.ed  .»  th. 
™y,o..uohhigh.b«l<olk. 

u  Shall    we     l!0    direotly    to     ui" 
Madred  ia  going  to  give  «.  *•  day,  "- 
^,  aa  n>uoh  of  it  a.  V^^^  »»-  *«    "   ^"^ 
„„  immolating  heraelf  upon  aavages. 

..  My  boy.  and  giA  are  not  «.v.ge..  They  have 
aiity.ndg.ntlene»Idonot-w^^d 
among  more  highly  oivai«l  people,    Mdd«d  ».«, 

"'!',^rn:Ctthey.em.^l.o.in^^ 
.,  ae.lopment,  -a  c^poH  t..^W«  w,^  th. 
g,«,ity  of  young  philowphe..,    Doug 
Lvoualy.     "I   .toll   cerU"dy  go  a^d  «»    yo 

among  Ihom,  if  you  in.i.t  on  «t""™8-       , 
„We  win  be  honored  by  your  p«»nce. 


MllDRED  KESra  HERO. 

'  Lady   Alicia  was  moving  leisurely  towani«   the 
Mildi-ed'8    e'as    following    her,   while 
mu8ic-room,   Mildi-etts    e  ^  uJv»hin    re- 

haIf.m.co„»=ioa.ly    .he  ptotu«d  her  Udyl"?    ^ 
daced  to  poverty  «.*  compelled  to  mo«.  w.th  the 
aacea  i"  f"      ^       i,„„„«,ive«  »t  the  dinneriioor 
oelerity    of  average  houMWive.  » 
with  hidl  «  doien  hungry  moutlu.   to   BatuJy  «» 
Tied.    -Sheeould  never  do  iC.h.  "id  -"her- 

t^  --people  ...  not  created  .like.  I  am  .ore. 

Her  MyLp  h«l  -aohed    the    door    ^    - 
lookL  J  .^    «hy  her    audience  atiU   Ungered^ 
MuL  quickened  her  Bte^;  for  -he  «.  ge^ 
ting  .Ld  of  her.     She  entered  and  e.t  h.ck  "ear 
Td^r-her  n,ind  turning  «ith  n..n.o„»  hater. 
"  hile  the  .kUled  anger,  drew  fron.  the  great 
„I'  it.  ..ored-up  hannonie.      She  li,.»ned  ad^r- 
•nX     MechanicaUy  it  ^  a  «-  ^f^"'  •""" 
■J^"  udicious  training;    hut  it  lacked   «»  .»u^ 
L  U,  and  which  only  a  few  are  ho^-* 
.nd  that  no  amount  of   tiaimng  «m  produce  m 
rl  U»n  .  M«=h«l   Angelo   or  Shak^p.-.  «- 
Tmaae  W  order.    Do„gl«.  watched  ^r  ^  ^ 
knew   that   .he    wa.  not    perfectly  »t«fl«4-      «« 
tr.th.ir  ncrher  and  whispered,  "You    .« 
Wtople^e.    I   fear  your  lndi.n.  have  made 

you  critical." 


T 


5  HERO. 

leisurely  towards  the 
following  her,  while 
red  her  ladyship  re- 
led  to  move  with  the 
res  at  the  dinner-hour 
(loutluj   to   satisfy  un- 

it,"  she  said  to  hei> 
ted  alike,  I  am  sure." 
the    door    and    was 
audience  stiU    Ungered. 
eps;   for  she   was   geb- 
ered  and  sat  back  near 
g  with  memories  bitter- 
;ew  di-ew  from  the  great 
en      She  listened  admir- 
,  a  fine  display  of   skill 
ut  it   lacked   the  touch 
Y  a  few  are   bom   with, 
aining  can  produce  any 
elo   or   Shakespeare   can 
188  watehed  her  face  and 

perfectly  satisfied.  He 
i  whispered,  "You  are 
rour   Indians   have   made 


MiaSIOS  WOHK. 


451 


.You  must  not  nee  in  faces  what  may  only  ex- 

U.t  in  your  own  imagination,"  she  murmu,.d  softly. 

.lunderstandyourface    too    welltobe    m«^ 

taken.     You  may  as  well  confess  to  your  lack    of 

appreciation  of  the  music."  ^    ,  ,    ,    ..^j," 

uThe   execution    is   quite   wonderful,   I    thmk, 

Mildred  faltered. 

"But  lacks  soul;  is  that  it?" 

.1  tivink  you  ait,  very  insistent   in   finding   out 

"^r^rtou  -ember   you    admired    her  playing 

^Tr/but  when  one  has  listened  for  hours  at 
a  time  to  nature's  harmonies,  it  makes  one  diih- 
cult  to  satisfy.  You  must  rememl^r  I  have  hved 
vei-v  near  to  nature's  heart,  these  last  years. 

He  turned  again  to  the  piano,  while  Mildred  took 
what  satisfaction  she  could  out  of  the  exact  blen<^ 
I,  of   chords    and    rendering    of    the   composer  s 

scL-   but  he -grew   tired  listening,   and  glancing 
r:«.dti.en  into   MUdred's  still   face,  he   l.^n 

studying  her  more  closely  tiian  he  had  ever  done, 
andTondered  as  he  watehed  her  sitting  tiiere  m 
her  old-fashioned  gown,  of  material    far  from   ee- 

gant,  with  tiie  graceful  pose  and  unconscious   dig- 


?««'' 


mi 


452  MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

mty  that  a  duchess  might  envy.    How  did  she  de- 
velop so  heautifuUy  away  off  there  ou  the  confines 
o!  civilization,  with  nothing  but  a  few  books    and 
her  own  thoughts  to  uplift  her?     He  looked  a 
her  with  an  intentness  that  at  last  made  her  ill 
at  e.«e-the  flush  growing  deeper  on  her  cheek. 
At  hist  she    i-ose    and,  going  to  the  window,  drew 
back  the  curUins  and  stood  partly  concealed  by  its 
friendly  shelter.     He  n>se   to  follow  her,    for  the 
first  time   in   all   his   life    realizing  that  standmg 
there,  in  her  rare  sweetness  and  humility,  was  the 
one  woman  in  all  the   world  for  him.     He  forgot 
the  proud  girl  waiting  for  him   at  the   other  side 
of  the  room,  who  had  waited  with  what  patience 
she    could    command   for    yea«,  and   whom  in    a 
Platonic  fcvshion  he  had  i^gard.d  as  the   probaWe 
companion    of    his    futui^    years -forgot  too  the 
proud  family  to  which    such    an    alliance    would 
admit  him,  mth   its    wealth    and    prestlg^.      The 
Lady  Alicia  intuitively  felt  that  her    music     was 
failing  on  unheeding  ears.     Her  jealous    instincte, 
always  on  the  alert  where    Mildred    was,  led  her 
to  glance  around  just  as  Douglass  arose,  his  face 
turned  from  her;  but  she  was  none  the  less  ceit^m 
that  he  wa-  watching  Mildred.    A  bi^ak  m    the 


B  HERO. 

vy.     How  did  she  de- 
there  on  the  confines 
but  a  few  hooks    and 
her?     He  looked  at 
at  last  made  her  ill 
deeper  on  her  cheek, 
ig  to  the  window,  drew 
partly  concealed  by  its 
to  follow  her,    for  the 
realizing  that  standing 
and  humility,  was  the 
Id  for  him.    He  forgot 
him   at  the   other  side 
ted  with  what  patience 
years,  and   whom  in   a 
garded  as  the   prohable 
years  — forgot  too  the 
ich    an    alliance    would 
th    and    prestigip.      The 
It  that  her    music     was 
Her  jealous    instincts, 
8    Mildred   was,  led  her 
Douglass  arose,  his  face 
was  none  the  less  cei-tain 
Idled.    A  bi-eak  in    the 


MISSION  WORK. 
music,  and  then  the  abrupt  ending  of  the  measnre 
stai-tled  the  hitter,  when  she  turned  and  saw  her 
ladyship  approaching. 

"  You  do  not  find  Brahm's  music  interesting.  Miss 
Kent?"  she  said  coldly,  and  then,  without  waiting 
for  reply,  added :  *  One's  musical  talent,  it  is  asser- 
ted, can  be  gauged  by  their  abUity  to  appreciate 
his  compositions." 

"I  must  plead  gmlty  then  to  a  lack  of  talent; 
for  I  could  not  tell  if  his  music  was  intended  to 
make  one  sad  or  glad." 

"Ah,  you  are  veiy  much  in  the  dark.  That 
symphony  was  one  of  his  most  decided  ones.' 

"Brahm's  admirei^  ckim  him,  if  I  mistake  not, 
as  the  high-priest  of  intellectual  masic.  But  I  am 
like  Mildred.  I  want  something  human,  passionate, 
not  mere  abstract  intellect." 

"Why,  I  thought  he  was  one  of  your  especial 
favorites.  You  used  to  admire  that  very  quality 
in  his  compositions,"  she  said,  arching  her  bi-ows. 

"Possibly  1  may  have  changed.  But  we  m^ast 
not  stand  here.  Time  is  too  precious,  when  this 
is  Mildred's  first  holiday  for  yeai-s.  What  shall 
it  be?"  He  turned  to  her  now,  the  glow  retummg 
to  his  face  that  Lady  Alicia  had  banished  for  the 


■« 


■"WKSSS^ 


— —  -'\ 


454 


^^  MILDRED  KENT^B  HERO. 

romeut.    "Wovad  ,ou  like   .  »il  on  the  W«? 

That  «»ed  to  be  your  favorite  »-»""«»'■  «' 
would  you  prefer  looking  »t  the  new  hook,  .nd 
;LrJ?    Anything  yon  cho^e,  .or  the  day  belong- 

"".flTwUl  be  one  of  the  specU   day.  of   my  Wo, 
1  beUeve."    She  tried  to  speak  lightty,  buther  Upe 
',n^::    Dough^e   w.  n„king  ^^^^''^ 
L  her  to  «tain  her  comp»u«,  with  Lady  Aheu. 

looking  critically  on. 

"it  -honld  be  a  bright  day,  -hen  .here  are  a 
tonsand  or  more  dull  daye  for  a  ^^f^^' 

.My  days  among  my  l»y.  and  girls  were  not 
dull.     One  may  to   happy  in  diflerent  ■:^y..    An 
Z,  eonseienee  brings  its  own  peeuli«-  sat«f«>tmn  _ 
Z  looked   at    him    eagerly -her  eyes  «    sud- 
denly  falling  Wore  ««  expre«,ion  she  met  onh,. 

'^Shril    we  look  at  *e  pictures   iirst?    The« 
^  some  new  one.  I  would  like  you  to  see. 

„yes,  I  believe  I  am  hungering  to  look  at    a 
good  pointing.    One   .nanage,   U,  "eep  desues  to 
t  im%ble  in  .p.-ion,  but  when  they  h^™ 
po^ibiLes,  the  longing  -"e-ay  sp^g.  to Jie^ 
m  "    She  turned  to  the  door  ss  J  eager  to  make 


8  HERO. 

a  sail  on  the  lake? 
irite    amusement.     Or 

the  new  books  and 
«e,  for  the  day  belongs 

K5ial  days  of  my  life, 
ak  lightly,  but  her  Ups 
jking  it  terribly  hai-d 
sm-e,  with  Lady  Alicia 

lay,  when  there  ai-e  a 
,  for  a  back-ground." 
ays  and  girls  were  not 
in  different  v:ays.  An 
ffn  peculiar  satisfaction." 
iriy  — her  eyes  as  sud- 
ipressiott  she  met  on  his 

5  pictures  first?  There 
Id  like  you  to  see." 
mngering  to  look  at  a 
ages  to  keep  desires  for 
,n,  but  when  they  become 
suddenly  spiings  to  fiercer 
door  as  if  eager  to  make 


MiaaiON  WORK.  ,   *"" 

np    for    loet    time.        Lady    Alicia    hesitated     a 
flush,  certainly  not  of  pleasure,  lismg  to  her  fece. 
She  did  not  cai-e  to  leave  Douglass  and  Mildred 
alone.      Her    pride    forbade   her   meekly    trailmg 
thi^ugh  the  house  after  them.     As  she   hesitated 
at  the  door,  to  her  great  relief  Mi^.  Everett  joined 
them,  when  she  felt  safe  to  retire  with  the  dig- 
nity the  occasion  demanded.     To  her  chagrin  Doug- 
lass paid  no  attention  to  her  while  he  st,K,d  beside 
Mildred,  who  had  paused   to  listen   to  sometog 
Mrs.   Everett  was   saying.    The  whole   length  of 
the  long  hall  lay  between  them  when  Lady  Alicia 
turned  at  last  to  look  at  them   again.    Douglass 
was  stiU  looking  at  MUdi-ed,  as  if  he  expected  to 
see  her  suddenly  vanish  from  his  sight.    A  moment 
after  M«.  Everett  left  them  and  came  to  her.    "  Are 
you  not  going   with  them?"  she  asked,  «or  shall 
wo  join  the  others?  I  think  they  are  all  m  the 

conservatory?" 

«I  am  going  down  to  the  drawing-room.    I  want 
to  hear  Miss  Kent's  mptures  over  the  pictures." 

uYou    mistake    her    entirely.      She    takes    her 

pleasures  silently." 

Her  ladyship  bowed  coldly  in  response  to  Mrs. 
Everett's  defence  of  her  favorite,  and  then  followed 


"I 


45(1  MILDRED  KEST^a    f!E&fi. 

the  two,  a8  she  nupposed,  downstair.;  but  Doug- 
lass  had,  for  some  i-eason  of  his  own,  gone  first  to  the 
picture^Uery.  Thei^  wex-e  a  few  new  paintings 
there  which  MihU^d  soon  found;  while  immy  of  her 
old  favorites  wei.  hanging  in  their  still  lovelmess 
on  the  walls.  She  stood  lookmg  at  one  that  pu- 
ticularly  satisfied  her. 

uHow  can  you  enjoy  them  so  deeply  when  you 
have  planned   your   life    is    dii^ct  variance  to   aU 
they  imply?"  Douglass  asked,  - bmisliing  youi^elf 
fi-om  everything  your  heart  cmves  after." 
«i  am  not  banished  from  everything." 
uYour  mother  i-ead  to  me,  fi-om  one  of  your  let- 
tei^,  a  descxiption  of  your  house  and  sui-roundmgs. 
It  seemeJ    the   abomination   of   desolation   to   me, 
though  you  endeavored  to  give  it  a  few   voi^ol- 

owd  touches." 

She  quoted  in  reply  St.  Basil's  words  :^"  As  the 
guest  of  God,  all  places  ai-e  aUke  to  me." 

u  You  ai-e  not  a  father  confessor,  worn  and  world- 
weaiy,  but  a  young  girl  foi-med  to  be  happy -to 
make  othei-s  supremely  happy." 

uHow  can  I  do  that  better  than  wnei-e  I  am/ 
You  would  almost  convince  me  my  sacxifico  has 
been  an  uttev  faUuxe." 


i 


f 

rn  stair* ;  but  Doug- 
own,  gone  first  to  the 
few  new  paintiugt) 
d ;  while  iniiny  of  her 
their  still  loveliness 
dug  at  one  that  pvr- 

(i  so  deeply  when  you 
dii-ect  variance  to  all 
i,  "  btvnisliing  yom-self 
cmves  after." 
everything." 
,  fi-om  one  of  your  let- 
luse  and  sui-roundings. 
of  desolation  to  me, 
five  it  a  few   ixjseHJol- 

lasil's  words:  "As  the 
alike  to  me." 
f essor,  worn  and  world- 
ned  to  be  happy  —  to 

ter  than  wnere  I  am? 
1   me   my  saciifico   has 


iriir 


MiaaiON   WORK. 


457 


"It  is  a  sacrifice,  then,  Mildred?  You  do  care 
for  us  here,  and  feel  the  separation  ? " 

"The  whole  world  would  not  tempt  me  away 
from  all  I  hold  dearest,  if  there  were  not  other 
worlds  beyond  us."  She  spoke  vehemently,  though 
scai-ce  above  her  breatli,  while  her  face  was  pale 
even  to  the  lips.  He  turned  abruptly  and  walked 
the  whole  length  of  Uie  room,  standing  by  an  open 
wmdow  that  framed  a  more  exquisite  picture  than 
any  hanging  on  palace  walls  —  Mildred,  through  a 
mist  of  teai-8,  stood  looking  up,  scarcely  conscious 
whether  a  blank  space  or  gem  of  art  w??s  befoi« 
her  eyes.  At  lust  he  came  to  her,  speaking  her 
name  differently  fioui  what  she  had  ev  i  heard  it 
pronounced  befoi-e.  Tui*mng'  to  him,  she  saw  that 
he  was  moved  by  some  strong  emotion.  "  I  have 
made  a  discoveiy  this  morning,  Mildre^^  I  can- 
not let  yon  leave  us  again.  I  must  hav<  on  here, 
my  bride,  my  wife." 

Her  face  was  ashen  low:  "I  gave  /self  away 
long  ago." 

"To  whom?"  he  anked  humedly.  "You  have 
not  promised  yomvelf  to  one  of  t'  ««  missionaries, 
svroly," 

"  I  liave  given  j-uyself  to  God.     You  knew  that, 


1. 


,111 


468  MILDRED  MENTIS  HERO- 

Douglass."  •  How  softly  she  mumm-ed  lus  name, 
as  if  those  little  letter  formed  a  sweeter  sym- 
phony than  Beethoven's  best. 

.You  have   fulfilled  that  vow.     AH  the   world 

would  absolve  you." 

4»If  I  cannot  absolve  myself." 

ulf  you  loved  me,  Mildi-ed,  you  would  not  hes- 
itate. But  I  do  uot  think  you  have  a  heart  like 
the  i-e  t  of  us,  — like  average  human  bemgs. 

«If   love    gives  a  claim    to    your    common    hu- 
manity I  cannot  think  .my  one  has  a  sti.,uger  one 

than  I."  ,  ^j 

"Have  you  ever  loved  any  one? 

•    "Yes." 

"Mav  I  ask  who  it  is  you  love?" 
u  The  one  who  was  my  friend  so  long  ago,  who 
protected  me  when  my  heait  was  nearly  breaking." 
Her  voice  was  tremulous,  but  she  looked  up  at  hmi 

bmvely.  „  .     ,  u-        T* 

uAh,  no,   Mildred;   that  b  only  friendship.    It 

i.  not  love,  or  you   would  leave  all  the  world  for 

me."     He  spoke  sadly. 

ui  would  do  so  wiUingly.  I  would  go  Avith 
you  into  exile,  into  a  cabin,  on  the  pmirie,  oh,  so 
gladly,  if    duty   and  I   could    go   with    you,    but 


HERO. 

[nui-raui'ed  Ills  nuiiie. 
led    a   sweeter  syiii- 

ow.     All  the   woiltl 

f." 

yoii  would  not  hes- 
ou  htive  a  heai-t  like 

human  beings." 
9    your    common    Itu- 
)ne  has  a  sti'ouger  one 

y  one?" 

a  love?" 

fiend  so  long  ago,  who 

was  nearly  breaking." 

b  she  looked  up  at  huu 

is  only  friendship.     It 
Leave  all  the  world  for 

)\      I   Avould  go  with 

on  the  piuirie,  oh,  so 

d    go   with    yoa,    but 


-«■ 


.^ 


a, 


-"t 


,4ri|bi.  .■inwipn""*^'* 


iirsaios  WORK..  **J> 

not  othenvwe."  She  too  spoke  sadly,  but  with  a 
flmnesa  of  resolve  that  was  maddening  to  the  one 
who  watched  her. 

"Did  you  always  love  me  — ever  since  we 
have  known  each  other?"  he  naked  at  Ust. 

"You  wei-e  always  my  hero,  but  —  "  she  hesi- 
tated, and  then  murmured,  "I  did  not  always  care 
for  you  in  that  way." 

"How  long  have  you  done  so?" 
The  rose-tint  came  back,  flushing  neck  and  brow, 
and  then  after  a  pause  she  answered  bravely, 
"Since  I  saw  you  and  Lady  AUcia  at  the  Paik 
Avenue  Commencement.  I  knew  then  you  were 
going  to  be  maiTied;  I  realized  how  rich  she  was 
to  have  your  love." 

"I  shall  never  many  any  one  but  yoiT.,  — prob- 
ably  become  a  wanderer  — for  you  and  Grassmere 
henceforth  will  seem  iit8ei>arablo.  Is  your  decision 
unalt»mble,  Mildred?"  Both  fcuje  and  voice  pleml 
more  eloquently  than  the  mere  woi-ds  he  utleml. 

"Perhaps  in  heaven  God  may  let  me  know  and 
love  you  better  than  any  of  His  shining  ones." 
Her  expi-esfeion  at  that  moment  might  have  baen 
caught  by  one  of  the  Old  Masters  and  immortal- 
ized for  "a  martyred  t^vint  on  the  eve  of  her  bndal 
with  Death. 


^ 


,4'fefta.re*«  KMBJWHHB*^ 


460  MlLDltKD  KENT^B  HEM. 

.  It  i«  not  then  I  long  for  you,  but  here,  now," 
he  naid  passionately.  ^^_ 

Tl.e  door  opposite  opened,  and  Lady  a 
Jd       Douglass   turned   abruptly   away   and   left 
rim,  while  Mildred,  her  .1M.««^-^-^^ 
gone,  st«od  helplessly  awaiting  her  ladyships  ap- 

^"^^'  t    tn   have    enjoyed    the    pictures 

uYou  seem  not   to    have    enj  J 

itv  mastering    ner   gm^  o  ^„a?" 

I  „ked  .gato,  "Wh««  l"*  «'-^™"'"^'"'' 

«T  iln  not  know." 

»1  tto  nov  „:^*„-e8  in   the   drawing- 

"Have  you  seen  the  pictures  m  w 

room  yet? 

"'  ■""  "°'''.t»n«   tot  he  left  without  trf^- 
"It   is   very    strange   inai- 

Jit™.  w«  «g.iuea  .0  that.he™.b.e^«* 
l.»rf  clones.,  to  n.„ve  i^  p.*™  j«  P- 
tu«,  looking  »t  .hem  about  ,.  W-"'^^^'^ 
fl„v  had  been  Mto  of  blurred  paper.  Her  Umn 
!:  i^^a  whir,  -herheart  erying  out  pa.>onaU,ly. 
Lwuinirly  agatat  the  deei»iou  of  her  «J^. 
WrAliereonoluded    flnany    that   Dougb» 


~  -'^ififl^^^lSff.rex^v^^''' 


you,  but  here,  now," 

and  Lady  Alicia  en- 
iptly  away  and  left 
gelf-ijosseasion  utterly 
ig  her  ladyship'**  ap- 

enjoyed    the    pictures 
she  said,  her  curios- 
ding.    After  a  pause 
s  Mr.  Everett  gone? 


»» 


tures  in  the  drawing- 


t   he  left  without  tak- 

yhile  gradually  the  lost 
that  she  was  able,  with 
9    fi-om  picture   to  pic- 
it  as  appreciatively  as  if 
irred  paper.     Her  brain 
crying  out  passionately, 
jcision  of  her  will, 
finally    that    Douglass 


MIBSIOtf   WORK. 

„».t  h.v.  W  trf..n  .uddenly  iU,  .nd  d^ided 
that  Ihey  .hould  go  in  «.roh  of  h.n>  or  h« 
!lr.  Mnd«d  t.r„«d  ...Hly.  Sh.  oorU.n^ 
Tooked  m  eno.gh  to  l«  in  M-  At  th.  door  .he 
Ued  hack  ^««ny  »t  the  -pot  v,h.oh  .oM 
heneeforlh   hold  the   «»lde.t,  s^-eet^t  memory  for 

her  in  aU  life's  victory- 

..You  admin.  thi8  ph«e  exceedingly.    When  M.. 
Everett  ^  •  f»nuly,  you  -hould  hecome  gove.^»» 
to  hi.  chadren,"  Lady  AUcia  »>id  wiU.  a  I«tn>n.«- 
i.g  air,  »hieh  wa.,  however,  quite  *">»"  ""J 
rince  queation.  and  hla„di.hmenl.  were  alAe  un- 
h.«led.     When  they  reached  the  draw.nr"0">.  »» 
Mildr«l-.  reUef  L«ly   Alicia  left  to  go  m  .«»rch 
„(  Douglas.    The  door  had  h«dly  clo«d  on  he 
when    I)ougl.«    «uter«l    and   came    «    M.dred. 
Z^.   within    an    alcove   on  the   farther  "de  of 
,l«room.     The  .hadow  h«l  Ufted  from  ta  ooun- 
wmmce,  «.d  with  hi.  ueual  cheerfulne*  he  >«A: 
»I  won't  trouble  you  any  more  Kniay,  my  darluig. 
Aft«  hearing  your  confe«ion  I  feel  certain  every- 
thing  wiU  turn  out  right.  ».d  you  mu.t  make  np 
'  mind  to  have  a  perfect  day.    Shall  we   go 
Lto  the  garden  tat,  or  WiU  you  look  at  the  pic- 
tures?" 


■  ■■,.         ^ij.iii.  !.>Li^iijiij.iiiwLjiiwt. .  ijaimmmmmmii 


mmmmmmBmsmmm 


;^Jif^:£Ml-A3«'«'^^'^^'^^>^'S^'«'**^tt^^K^«^MSV. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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1.8 


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1-25     1.4      1.6 

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> 

Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  wist  MAIK  STRUT 

WiBSTiR.N.Y.  14S80 

(716)  872-4503 


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Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microraproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  da  microraproductions  historiquas 


,igSSw«»Sii«»>5  *»"■"• 


462 


MriDBED  KENT'S  HERO. 

.1  had  rather  go  into  the  gaiden." 
.You    would   rather    not    have    any  one 

"*^"  -^i,    o    amile— "I   will    leave 

She    looked    up   with  a  Binile, 

that  for  you  to  decide." 

.Aa  vou  will   do  everything  after  th«, 

■"8-" 

»You  forget  your  prom«e. 

„It  i,   impo^ibk  n,t  .«  do  «.  -Mo  you 
„e„  n.e,"  he  »id  ..e^ly.    He  p.-*^  *«^^ 
totiehUn.other'^P'rfe"'"'""''"'''^ 
ta  very  beeoulng  «o  yo»."  ^,„„„  heart 

latt«r  looked  ^^^^'^^  ^i^^^rful  expression 

lass  walking  along  ^vlth  a  very 

of  countenance.  „  |^ 

„We  are  d«>med   to   interrupUon.      H^^PO 
„iay,    but    ,>U    -e     «s    n««    *^  J^    ^  J 

,,p»Ue„t.      Wheu    -^^;;7„„.^  ^  hour 
she  said  curiously:  "I  saw  yo 


afillHiWMli 


M1B8I0N   WORK. 


463 


n. 


any 


_"I   will    leave 

ex  this,  ^lildi-ed. 
J  heart  is  passion- 
i  I  will  he  exact- 


so  while  you  are 

aused  ai  the  door 

her  head.     "That 

,ttle  between  heart 
rcely.    To   her  re- 
le   garden  she  saw 
approaching.    The 
hen  she  saw  Doug- 
cheerful  expression 

ptions."  He  spoke 
one  the  less  veiy 
[dp  reached  them, 
a  not  half  an  hour 


ago  looking  the  picture  of  distress;  and  now  one 
could  fancy  you  had  some  internal  illumination, 
your  face  is  so  bright." 

"May  it   not  be   your  fancy,  or   else    the    sun- 
shine   which   has   ^vrought  'the   miracle?"  he   said 

coolly. 

•  She  looked  baffled,  but  ventured  no  further  re- 
mark.    By  a  little   skillful   manoeuvering   on   her 
part   she   secured   Douglass,   and   left    Mildred  to 
wander    beside    Mrs.    Everett   among  the   flowers. 
Mrs.   Everett  was   keen  enough   to   discover '  that 
neither  her  son  nor  Mildred  were  just   themselves, 
but  did  not  for  a  moment  guess  at  the  true  state 
of  affairs.     The   day   passed    drearily   enough    for 
Mildred,  although   they  had  a   delicious   hour   on 
the  lake,  and  the  pictures  alone  would  have   made 
her  supremely  content  for  at  least  a  month  amid 
her  Dakotan  solitudes;  while   Mrs.  Everett  carried 
her  off,  in  the  hour  before  dinner  when  the  other 
guests  were  busy  in  their  rooms  over  their  toilets, 
to  the  library  to  exhibit  her  son's  literarj-  pi-oduc. 
tions.    She  only  had  time  for  a  hasty  glance  at 
them;  but  even  that  was  sufficient  to  reveal  to 
her  the  fact  that  Paul  had  not  exaggerated  when 
speaking  to  her  of  his  literary  abUity.    They  had 


S«(i»SK< 


■-gjgiJlSa?<iitwwA&i>i»K9l*«'*' 


%.. 


MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 


464 

.    been   lone  in   the   dmwiug-room    after   dinner 
not    been   long  ^^  ^^^ 

A  ™  have  had  a  surfeit  of  society  M^y- 
lZ\Tl   he    re^ue,.^  »*,    on    going  .nto 

'"^  rtf-haT t^  ;v?:!^«eUon,  whe« 
give  her  her  hat.    »n    »»  ^^^^^  „„j 

The  soft  t..ts  0    «^  >^^       4^  the  ,«>»  looked 

*^^  "■:  r^l  T^  -loaded   ett.er   on 
down  tenderly    through    tD  .     j^^^^  suns 

,„  uttie  pi«.e^ip  -'^\:::;"\::^r„.  <«e 

^a  systen,.  ™  -   -J  ,„,  „,  ^,,  , 

::  :Tunl:i:  ^  seeded  .  «;j^ 
r.  into  the  seat  l^a.  the  rnan^on...  10^ 

„^y   le»,    than    her    God.     ^'"'  i    ^^^t 

to«^  the  •■---trthrJ  tilTit  athed 

""^         r  ZtZ.    A.   the   horse    «lked 
offered  to  her   that   day.  ^^^ 

Blowly  through  the  perfumed  an:,  Doug 
to  her  and  said :  — 


"T 


RO. 

)m  after  dinner 
said  lihe  carriage 
shed  her  to  slip 

sure  to  have  an 
V  we    are    going, 
ciety  to^ay." 
L,    on    going  into 
ag  there  consider- 
■aas'  command,  to 
,  directions   wliere 

Mildred  went  out. 
jht  were  gradually 
ile  the  stars  looked 
iclouded    ether    on 
ong  the  larger  suns 
ry  burdens   ol  care 
d  full   of  perplexi- 

to  Mildred,  as  she 
man  whom  she  loved 
,e    turned  her  eyes 
n  and  stately  against 
first  time  it  flashed 
idid    place  had  been 
,    the    horse    walked 

air,  Douglass  turned 


MtaSION   WORK. 


465 


"The  day  is  done,  now,  Mildred,  and  my  prom- 
ise is  fulfilled.  I  want  you  t«  tell  me  to-night 
when  the  hour  wUl  come  that  I  can  keep  you  at 

my  side  always."  ^^ 

"I  told  you  this  morning  all  I  could  tell  you, 

she  murmered. 

"I  shaU  not  take  that  answer.    I  have  thought 

it  all  over.    I  liave  thought  of  nothing  else  to-day 

I  believe,  and  cannot  permit  two  Uves  to  be  wrecked 

bv  a  mere  sentiment." 
'  "  If  you  could  be  a  missionary,  I  would  go  with 

you  to  Greenland,  or  to  the  lepers  of  Molokai,  to 
the  most  desolate  spot  on  earth,  and  it  would 
seem  like  heaven  to  me,  if  you  and  duty  went 
with  me."  She  turned  to  him  eagerly;  the  friendly 
night  concealed  the  smUe  her  words  provoked  on 

his  face. 

"I  have  not  been  called  to  that  work.  Every- 
one cannot  be  a  missionary.  The  poor  things 
would  soon  starve  if  everyone  gave  themselves  up 

like  you." 

"There  is  no  danger  of  such  a  thing  happening 

for  some  centuries,"  she  said  calmly. 

"You  will  be  guided  by  your  mother's  decision, 
Mildred.  Won't  you  consent  to  leave  it  with 
her?" 


MILDRED  KEST^^  BEHO. 

a^d    by  her  iu  everything   my 

conscience  xviU  allow. 

«^  tVina''"    she  cried, 
torture  me  thu«  to  be  my  wife? 

.Is  it  torture  to  urge  yo  ^^^  ^^^^^ 

•       .ItiB  when  I  must  refuse.     ^^^^^  ,^ai 

...ndrne.     inthad-na^mere^^^^^^^^^ 
have  stifled  my  love  for  a^  ^^^^  ^^^,g 

those    so  dear    to  me,  and 
Indians?"  understand  such    self- 

«No,  Mildred;  I  °*^°'        reverence  it.    Some 
..negation,  but  I  can  aam.r^;tj^^^^^,,,, 

day  youi-  mind  may  change, 

that  blessed  time^'  ^^^^^,    pe.haps 

"  ^'^'"t^^    forget  me,  and  be  happy, - 
iu  a  few  yea«  you  val    f o  ge  ^^^  ^^^^^ 

-^^^^^^tii:°c;ri^«^e^---^^' 

ti-embled;  plamly  the  pici 

,vith  ber  heart's  blood.  ^^^^^  ^^^,^„ 

.Could   you   blame^^-;  ,^  ,e  smiled 

He  spoke  soberly.    ^^^  "^     ^  ^  i,t. 
to  himself  under  cover  of  tiie      g  ^^^^^ 

uNo."      Her  voice  sounded  like  ai 

«^'''''  f  vears  bence  we  may  look  back,  -- 

uA  score  of  years  n«  wiveenus,  and 

you  and  I,-«*  "'»«'"""""'* 


M 


MtaBION  WORK. 


467 


a   everytb'ng   my 
bt,  is  it  manly,  to 

,  be  my  ^fe'" 
Can  you  not  under- 
re  caprice,  would  I 
liigher  culture,  for 
ried  myself  among 

deretand  such    self- 
reverence  it.     Some 

and  I  >vill  ^*^*  ^°' 

Grassmere.    Perhaps 
xtie,  and  be  happy,— 


,  woman 


Her  voice 


sUe  di-ew  was  tinged 

^f    I  should  forget?" 
not  know  he  smiled 
he  night. 
M  like  au  echo  among 

we  may  look  back,-- 
„tineut  bet^ee^  us.  and 


with  boys  and  girls  waiting  to  enact  these  scenes 
over  again,  our  well-loved  partners  at  our  side, 
and  cailo  «t  the  bitterness  of  to-day." 

«I  will  never  be  able  to  srnUe  at  it,  Douglass. 
I  shall  never  have  any  husband  unless  G^d  gives 
you  to  me,"  she  said  with  a  sob.  His  only  reply 
was  to  chisp  passionately  the  hand  that  lay  on  her 
knee.  The  horse  walked  sedately  along;  Douglass 
probably  had  never  driven  so  slowly  over  that 
road  before,  yet  when  they  came  into  the  busy, 
lighted  street,  it  seemed  but  a  moment  since  tiiey 

left  Grassmere. 

"I  brought  old  Roger  on  purpose,   for  he  walks 
so  slowly  now ;  but  he  has  made  good  time  to-night," 
he  said,  witii  surprise  not  unmixed  with  vexation. 
He  said  good-bye  at  the  gate, 
ujack  Carver  will  be    quite   sure  t«  be  there, 
and  probably  Mr.  Felton  and  others,"  MUdred  ex- 
plained,  by  way  of  apology  for  not   inviting  him 


m. 


•.:     -., 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

AT  WOEK  AGAIN. 

,  OUGLASS  «»ne  and  .en.,  «M1.  her  mother, 

'""1   .U«ul     f«=e,    eeeonded  h».«.t.  -J 

^      though   .he    s»ld   very  few  words.     M 

■«  J     w  he  WW  the  lover's  longing  in 
^  mysttfed;  for  he  saw   t  ^ 

r^rvi^-ir-^J-rM^i^s 

.  fortnight  had  p.»ed,^y  « ^^  /  _^^„^^  ^ 
^«.n.  hut  none  *-  '«»  r^^j^  k„^,„  D. 
to  assume  chwge  of  »   sehooi 

kot*. 

MS 


AT  WORK  AGAIS. 


4M 


LV. 


N. 


b,  whUe  her  mother, 
onded  his  suit,   al- 
few  words.     Paul 
lover's  longing  in 
ore  plainly  than  in 
)rally  cei-tain  he  waa 
rding    to    Mildred's 
no   satisfaction  by 

ended  when  scarce 

letter  very    politely 

mphatic,  asking    her 

d   in    Northern    Dar 


uOh  Mildred,  this  is  bitter,"   her    mother   said, 
her  habitual  selfniontrol  for  the  moment  forsaking 
her     "Surely,  can  God  require  such  sacrifice  from 
you -from     Douglass?      How    can    I    let     you 
go?"     Mildred  was    silent.      She   never    reasoned 
with  any  of  them  now;  but  the  face,  daily  grow- 
ing  whiter,  revealed  the  conflict  going  on  m  her 
soul     The  sudden  summons,  in  some  respects,  was 
a  relief -she  wa*  glad  to  get  back  again  to  hard 
work,  and   away  from    temptation.      The    bitterest 
moment  was  when  DougUss   came    to    say    good- 
bye.    It  was  in  the  early  mommg,  and  she  was  to 
leave  that  night.    It  chanced  to  be   one    of    those 
dreary  days  we  have  sometimes  even  in  the   heart 
of   summer.     The   wind   was   from   the    east,  with 
sudden  gust«  that  drove    the   rain    fiercely  agamst 
the  >vindow.pane,  while  it  moved  like   a  spuit  m 
pain.     She  met  him  at  the    door,  dripping   m   his 
long  mackintosh,  his  face  wet  with  the  rain  he  had 
faced  from  Gra^smere.    He  threw  off  his  wet  coat 
and  turned,  without  waiting  for   her    to  lead   the 
way,  into  the  seldom-used  parlor. 

«  Oh  do  not  go  there,"  she  cried,   "  it  is  too  de*- 

olate." 

« No  j)lace   is   desolate    to  me    where    you  are, 


-  1 


*'®  V  1     .itv  will  be  tlmt." 

Mad,.a.    To.n.om>«  the  »^ol.j">';;  ^,.  ^„ 
He  .tood  looWng    down  «  ^^_^ 

Do    you   remember,  m. 

and  girl  then."  thousand    other 

kindne«e».      Yet  ^^^  ^^,,  ;„  ^y^t 

She  Wd  her   h«>d  down  ^  ^  ^^  a™. 

oJ  uncontroUble  «MP»g-  ^„«. 

,er  iorUtude  h.1  i'>"^\^.  „„^h,  Mildred, 
He  laid  his  hand  on  l>e^"«^  ^.t,"  he  .»W 

to  is   ««.  .«.-»»  "'»  '         „„„  to  the  hnr- 

hoarsely.     "I  -^^  ■'°'  "'t.T     I   «   »°'    *'"" 
dens  J  see  yon  have  »         •   ^^^    ^^    ^,,y, 

yon  snfieied  like    ">J«"-  ^  a>e    promise 

low,  hui  won't  yon  che«  ».  -  ,  ^,^ 

*-''""C"Gr^.»elpyou-- 

*'  ''°'*  ^.  rUtioes  h.   doe.  not  demand' 
,„«  are   n>ak.ng    s«.*  ,     „  wk  ""g"* 

H«  it  never  o"""""*  *"  J°„  „y  ^tfe.  d>»n  as  an 

l«  „ore  helpful  t»*^»/l,^„..  r- 
ohsenre  teacher  m  *.  ^^^^    ,„,  j  ^„„t 

„  OK     y-   »  ,  w  I   feel  honnd  by  ny 

■»^''^\t'«Tte«aWidMwife,«.dyon 

promise,  just  «»  « 


-  1 


XT  WORK  AOAltt. 


m 


to. 

ty  will  be  that." 
.a  have   been 
^ay  I  came  here. 
,    were  only   boy 

.    thousand    other 

requited  them?" 
,e  table  in  a  burst 
^a8  the  first  time 

in    his    presence. 
uHush,  Mildred, 
the    rest,"  be  said 
,  more  to  the  bur- 

I   did    not    think 

will    say    good-bye 
B  with  the    promise 
,  see  you,  and  vrith 
ly  help   you    to   see 
,   does  not  demand? 
that  your  work  migbt 

my  wife,  tiutn  as  an 

of  Dakota?" 
times;    but  I   cannot 
I  feel  bound  by  my 

wedded  wife,  and  you 


sued  for  the  hand  given  to  another.     Sm<v  God 
ZL  g-l  a  right  to  expect  a  fulfillment  of  a        • 
promiselsoneofus;butmaybemypu^sewai 

falter.     God  fo.^ve  me,  if  I  make  a  nusUUce. 
«You  are  forcing  me  to   worship   you,  M^W-<1. 

by  your  heroism-  your  superb  ideal  of  duty. 
''slK«e,  her  calmness   returning  by  a  ^up.me 

effoHofwiU.     « Our  good-bye   need  not  bo    final. 
You  may  join  me  in  my  work  some  day. 

roTyou  -y  come  to  me."     He  stooped  <lown 
and  kJed    her,    the    fi>.t    lover's  kiss   that    h^ 

ever  pressed  her  lips;    -^  ^^^  ^«  TM^ 
went  out  into   the  storm   -tbout  speakmg  aga.. 

She    packed  her    trunk    and    got   eve^ythmg    m 
readings  for  the  cab  that  was  to  come  ^r  her  a 

six- some  hours  earlier  than  was  neces^ry  She 
wLtooresUesstosit  quietly  and  talk  to  her 
ZZ  or  listen  to  Paul  and  Gx^e,  who  specu- 
ra^7;icK>mily  on  ..eimprol^bility   of  seeing  b^^^ 

befoi/another  three  years  had  elapsed.  Paul 
^  Zed  he  might  be  well  on  in  his  coUege  cou..e 
Tythat  time;   and  if  she  should  double  her  term 

he  might  have  the  nucleus  of  a  family  about  Inm 

of  his  own  raising.  , 

■        .1  am  not  going  to  follow  your    example    and 


47t 


4„  mildr^:d  r.nST'B  mM. 

.     1        Folk-   that    get   nianied,  and    do    M 
live  Bmgle.     tok-   t        g^  ^    ^^^^   ^ 

the  W    mteuded    a,      m  ^^^^^ 

.euHible,"  he   remarked,  m    «'«  ° 

*  «  f.irailv  usually  fftiw  i"»*'- 
the  one  .»»«  "f  » '"""'f  .  ,    .  1„  ,„»«,  force  with 

«-'PV«-«'"""7*::,"'l.»dneverbe.o. 

„„.  took  po«e«>o..   ol  l«r,  ».  j^ 

dUpo».l  of  l.er  U-ggage  "*  ^^;",,  „e  knew 
,VM  DougK-  who  7  ™7j°;':Hhe»e«  the 
.he  would  he  too  «H«  ^^  ^  „  the 

1„„^  ot  a  ^-^^I.^'^Za   to   these    seo- 
dWng«loon,  !■»  *»°^'^j^  ^„„y   «„   tave   .c 
„.d„y  n.atje«  ^™»^,«:;^,,  ,he  re,ne.t. 
oompanied  her,  but  dared  Wmd^tep, 

The  whWe  Uew,  and,  .to   a^^W  ^^^ 

he  left  her  to  pa»  out  .nto  the  A-k.  ^.^ 

to  Meet  they  knew    no     wh™,  .t    -^        ^^_^_^^^ 
the  l«»ibmty  of  entu.ly  changed™  _^ 

they  look  mto  each  other-,  eyea  aga.n. 


11 


0. 

lied,  and    do    M 

ural    M    well   as 

i-acular  way   that 

fulls  into. 

,  a  rnei-e  fai-co  with 

had  never   before 

jt,  — and    through 

hing  i-ain  they  said 

J  ftt   the    sad-faced 
,n  the  platfoi-m  and 
talwart,  fine-looking 
d    attended   to   the 
rot  her    ticket.     It 
'for  her.     He  knew 
to  permit  heraelf  the 
regular  meals  in  the 
ttend   to   these    sec- 
vould   fain   have   ac- 
make  tlie  request, 
r   a   long  hand-clasp, 
le  darkness  and  storm, 
n,  if    ever,  and   with 
nged  i-elations  should 
res  again,  for  few  hu- 


AT  WORK  AOAlH. 
„.„  Wng.  «.  true*»rt«l  .nough  U,  hold,  Om-ugh 

H  .ho  W  on«ed  our  ,«.a.wy  o,.  ti»  ftngen. 

of  one  hand.  , 

Th«t  journey  U.  th.  W»t  h«1ced  the  keen  Je 

U„,,t  of  U,.  other  A.  h«l  ..ken   only  »   «ort».ght 
,        -^      -»   «nt    without   itB    consolations, 
before,   but    it   was   not   witnoui   lu. 

«.a  f>,at  she  had  conquered  self,  and 
The  consciousness  that  sne  nau  i.u  h 

.t  the  lo™  of  >vh.t  ^  d«>«.t  on  «nth,  h.d.««l 
«nn»g.iu.tt.npUtion.  brought  it.i.«.rd.    Wheft- 

„  the  ^orifice  ...  wi«  or  no,  mu.t  be  d.o.d«l  by 
each  ^cording  to  hi.  light,  but  that  .he  deemed 
;  «>  ».d  2  true,  proved  U»t  .he  .»  ^oned 
„mething  like  the  martyr,  of  our  holy  reUg-ou 

Tl>.  journey  ended,  .he  found  her  new  home  mo« 
de.ol.U  than  the  tot.     The  »=hool  had  b«u  o^y 
a  short  time  ..taUiAed,  and  her  P-P-^  "'"/'J" 
.The  teacher  placed  m  charge 
itable  little  mvagea.       IM  teacner  p  .  .     .    ,„ 

Cd  given  up  in  deeper,  leaving  the   a»>.tant  to 
^ige  them  alone  untU  another  -Id  >« -u-^ 

T                    „   txmiral   frontier  abode,  with  lew 
The  house  was  a  typical  iroiiu«  

of  the  appliance,  that  tran«fon„  wood  and  mortar 

into  a  genuine  home.     The  children  ..a«d  at  her 

^of^uriou.  bh.k   eye.,   taking   m  her  person. 


474  MILDRED  KENT'S  HERO. 

aUty  little  more    intelligently    than   bo  many  well- 
U.i;.ed  animals.     The    teacher   came    out   to  xneet 
her -a  rosy-faced,  bright-looking   person,   we  1    on 
m  her   thirties -whose   eveiy   gesture    betokened 
the  pi-actical,  keen-witted  business-woman,  as  devoid 
of  sentiment   or  the  higher  types  of  enthusiasm  a. 
a  marble  statue,  but  who  could  estimate   the  dol- 
lar's worth  with    perfect    accuracy.      She   led   the 
^y  tough  the  group  of  dusky  faces  to  the  room 
appointed  for  the  principal  of  the  school. 

ul  tried  to  fix  it  up  for  you,  but  it  looks  bare 
enough  at  the  best,"  she  said,  throwing  open  the 
door;  and  truly  her  woids  described  it«  mtenor. 
A  bed,  a  single  wooden  chair,  yellow  linen  bUnds 
at  the  windows,  and  an  unpainted  wa^hstand;  not 
even  a  strip   of   carpet   to  reUeve  the  coldness  of 

the  dingy  floor. 

ul  am  surpiised  so  good-lookmg  a  girl  aa  you 
are  should  come  here.  Pretty  girls  can  generally  get 
their  pick  and  choice  of  a  home  without  burying 
themselves  alive,"  was  the  next  si^rtling  remark^ 

Mildi-ed  looked  her  surprise  at  the  words.  Do 
you  not  work  here  for  something  better  liian  a 
home  or  money?"  she  asked. 

ul  teach   in   an   Indian   school  because  the  pay 


AT  WORK  AOAIS. 


475 


RO. 

HI   SO  many  well- 

ime    out   to  meet 

person,  well  on 
resture  betokened 
-woman,  as  devoid 
J  of  enthusiasm  as 

estimate  the  dol- 
cy.  She  led  the 
f  faces  to  the  room 
ne  school. 

,  but  it  looks  bare 
throwing  open  the 
scribed  its  interior, 
yellow  linen  blinds 
ted  washstand;  not 
leve  the  coldness  of 

kmg  a  girl  as  you 
iris  can  generally  get 
(ne  without  burying 
:t  startling  remark, 
at  the  words.  "Do 
ething  better  lihan  a 

hool  because  the  pay 


is  good  and  the    work   not   so    difficult  as  among 
white  children.     I  wouldn't   stay  hei-e    alone   with 
them   from  a  sense    of   duty,  I   assure   you.     Miss 
Marks  left  because  she  got  discouraged  over  their 
wickedness  and  stupidity.     I  told  her  we   did  not 
create  them;  and  if   they   were   a   failui-e,   it   was 
not  our  fault.    But  she  was  a  liigh-strung,  hyster- 
ickey    creature,    with    fine   notions    of     duty   and 
self-eacrifice.    They  are  the  kind   tiiat  break  down 
easUy   I  find,"  she  added,  self-<3omplacently. 

«Yes,  and  they  are  the  kind  too   that  move  the 
world,"  Mildred  said,  quite  as  calmly. 

uOh,  well,  it  takes  all  kinds  to  complete  the 
circle,  and  if  I  had  been  one  of  the  shrieky  kind 
you  would  not  have  found  a  school  here.  1 
have  kept  every  one  of  them,  and  we  have  had 
lessons  light  along  too;  but  I  must  go  and  see 
about  your  dinner.  Those  Indian  girls  are  better 
at  eating  the  food  than  preparing  it." 

Mildred  saw  the  door  shut  behind  her  loquacious 
assistant  with  reUef,  and  then  exchanged  her  travel- 
stained    garmente,    putting    on    a    pretty    cambnc 
gown, -one  of  many  gifts  from  Mrs.  Everett  dur- 
Tns  her  visit  home.     She    resolved  te  be  as  partic 
ular  about  Lcr  toilet  as  if  her  pupils  had  been  of 


;^.j  ...,-*.^*^--»-' 


'    t 


.,-  MILDRED  KKST'8  HERO. 

,        „-  fViose  who  attended 
^    ,li«cerninK   class   as  those  wi 
the    same    discerning  ^^^  j^^^^ 

^ted.    WVule  she  toed  to  .WMA 

support  natm.  ™ta  "er  7  ^^ jr/^,. 

1     *^u  m-ftteful  for  her  moUiei »  wib« 
better,  she  felt  gmtef m  knowledge   of 

ing  which  liad  included  a  thoroug 

,„„  ,„.o»  «ueh  aw  HU=h«.  w«J  ^^__^  _^^^ 
u-it  is    not   always   safe   to    juy 

le^ly  moved  f.»m  *«  *»"'=•  »~^°   " 
J  ..outwent  into  »«  --"^„^^^„,   .„™ 
„I  „»,e  tried  a>e   ■=~k*°»*'^^'=''  ;,^„    ^ 
„,    the    messes    W    been    dr^«^;   ^^^   j,,, 
I„di».»  drew  the  line  .t  «°™.°'  *'    ,^    „„t  ^ 
„re»»ed.     I  Wievo  printed   d^eotioM   "» 
C^M  o,.  al«y»:  *e«r.^»' »""'"'»   * 


,^^-^..  ...,^^-.  ■•■■— ^"^^  "■       *       \ 


RO. 

lose  who  attended 
dinner  »he  found 
tly  prepared.     Tlw 
tatoes  soaked  with 
liied  up,  instead  of 
allow  something  to 
u^nds  could  provide 
mother's  wise  teach- 
ough  knowledge   of 

,r,"   Miss  Brand  ex- 
take  any   pains;  as 

,  cooking,  and  I  can't 

J   was  as  ignoi-ant  as 

r  looks  I  don't  expect 

ft  work." 

,    judge  from  appear- 

moredly,  as  she  hope- 
unable    to   force  any 

nwilling  lips* 

,oks  lately,  and   some 
di-eadful.      Even    the 

me  of   the   dishes   I've 
directions   ax-e    not  to 

is   almost  sui-e  to  be   a 


477 

jlT  WORK  AGAIN. 

,,e  .oat  .com,.,  -ip-    B-'*''«»-Tr': 
hetuv  .tor   to.     Ml   .e  beg,u   no.  _   A^ - 

.„  »t  p«»e„t  con.tHu.e.1,  «ho.e»n,e  W  to  the 
tody  i.  even  mo«  nece»».y  th»n  mentJ    ood. 
'^'l  gave  fl.e  »chol«s  .  holiday,  and  »nt  hen.  o« 
to  It  g«nes,  except    the   older   girl,   v-ho   help 
I  Tk-Cen,  thinking  you   .onld  want   U>  r^ 
and  have  the  ho.»e  qniet  after  your  jom^y^ 

„Y„u  are   very  thoughtful,  but   I  *«''    f  J^^ 
U,e  .^t  I  need  superintending  some  ooo^g  °P« 
.i„n.     I  would  noon  stM've  on  that  diet 
•"^Zy  Lt  -  work  h.  good  ear^e-t-the  Ind^n 
g^rdlviding  their   «dn...>g   g.-e»  ~J^ 
Lw  .«aoher'»  beautMul  appoaianoe  and  deft  hand. 
S       An    appetizing    «lor    «H,n    pervaded    th 
r^tn    whUe  huge  hatches  of  l^  we.,  beg..." 
'w  ^    ri»    hollfully    in    the   kneeling    tray^ 
nrng   to  r  _  Mild.«d,  who  regarded 

etched  over  carefully  by  Muo.^ 
toead  ju-t  now  as  her  main  staff  of  1.  e      Wate. 
!rJeanwhile  heated,  and  relays  of  g.rU  set  to 
HZ   closet,  «.daoo™,  and  the  house   geue. 

aUy. 


478  MILDRED  KEST'S  HERO. 

«.id  «r»logetioany  to  Mi«  B»ad,  ",.h»  lie  hou«. 
one  lives  in  to  perfectly  clean." 

Mi»  B»nd  smUed  grimly.  S«cl.  gomgs  on  vre,e 
.  TeT  Ph.«.  of  mto,ion-»ork  in  her  expenenee 
;:Jonly.«.U-nd..Hto.MU^^^^^^^^^ 

Udv's  ideal  of  activity  was  of   the   pui-eiy 
^;ind._.l,en.ecl»nicMt»k.inU,eholdn^.u 

her  estimation  a  very  «K=ond.,-y  place  A  au»^t, 
I  the  bov8  and  gi.l«  ^cro  »»»emUed  for  plKy- 
:  M^ooUed  I  the  well-w,.hed  .ae»,  and 
Z  at  the  clean  .^.m,  a,  .he  took  hevpl.ce  at 
rdbinet  organ  to  l««l  the  singing,  and  ,™  su. 
jLd  at  tUe  fndden  content  that  W  taken  poa- 
session  of  Ixer  lieait. 


-  I 


[ERO. 

Batisfied,"    Mildi-ed 
"when  the  house 

uch  goings  on  were 
in  her  experience. 
,8  Marks,  and  that 
tlxe  pui-ely  intellec- 
ts in  life  holding  in 
r  place.     At  sunset, 

assembled  for  pmy- 
ll-washed  faces,  and 
5  took  her  place  at 
singing,  and  was  sur- 

that  liad  taken  pos- 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

IN    BXTBBMIS. 

^ELL-COOKED  food,  a  well-ordered  home, 
and  a   firm,  steady  hand,  soon  reduced 

the  nrfi-actoiy  school  to  submission.   For 

the  fii^t  few  weeks,  however,  Mildx-ed  was  kept  so 
busy  she  could  scarcely  snatch  time  for  a  humed 
letter  home,  or  a  moment's  indulgence  for  her  fa- 
vorite pu«uit«;  but  U.ere  was  :.st - forget^ulness 
in  this  ceaseless  activity  that  brought  a  healthy 
glow  to  the  white  face,  and  a  moi-e  peaceful  look 
out  of  the  troubled  eyes. 

The  early  froste  soon  foreshadowed  the  bitter  win- 
tor  that  was  stealthily  approaching.  With  no 
stronger  arm  than  her  own  to  lean  on,  MUdred  -^ 
umlWdreaded  the  cold  and  storms ;  but  she  fortified 


480  *^''^*''''  '^'''"''  "'"''' 

*>ia+   she   would   only 

house,  eh.   B«d,  «^  ^  ^,j^, 

ttau  out,  te  the  ve^  g^  .^^  ^^  ^^  ^ 

„ork  m  the  early  ^   ^^_^j„^,  j^, 

hou«,   quite  up   «»   *«    *  „,^„  ,^^,ere 

t^t.  «hile  the  vanters  '"^    »"  ^yi  a„ 

Ap.1  .Uies  would  he^*»^.^^^^„^^^„ 
The  lad,  o-teredhe^^ly-nto        P  ^^  ^ 

^  ^u^ly  «.-  epec^  t».t  at  ^^^.__^ 

W  day'.  -oA;   whJe   .t«ly  ,„ 

«*  ".-«  -*  .^':,„t^eas«,t  ae  the  parties 
eh«  those  evenmg.  vrere  m  P 

toVemout.    B-f '"*"'  „,„    moments  of 

tot  each  day  brought,  there  _ 

heart-loueliue*  that  these  were  powe.le» 


1ER0. 

t   she   would   only 

k   time,   though    in 

thei-e    might  be  a 

piled  into  one. 
the  hai-dshipB  of  the 
*t  teiTifying.      The 
shell;    and   after    a 
J   indoors  was  better 
jason  that  the   drifts 
,t  the  larger  boys   to 
ing  eai-th  around  the 
iows,  to   exclude  the 

and  other  stores  were 
tie^to  last  until   the 
r  tenderly  above  them. 
»  her  plans;  for  there 
jat  at  the   close   of  a 
budy    for  that   evening 
spent    in   story-telling, 
.rthaBi-andused  to  de- 
s  pleasant  as  the  parties 
^,  in  her  native  village 
the    stirring   activities 
here    were    momenta   of 
were   powerless  to  cora- 


JS  EXTREMIS.  *®^ 

fort,  when  the    question,  ever   unanswei^,  if  the 
way  Mildred  had  chosen  was  the  one    God  meant 
for  her,  would    present   iteelf.      Like    a    tiirobbing 
pain    that   no    remedy    can    reach,  the    perplexing 
tixought  kept  repeating  itself  :   Was  it  required  of 
her  to  stifle  the    craving    for  a   fuller   knowledge 
of  ait,  for  a  higher  culture,  and  more    than   this, 
tiie    one    supreme    passion    of    her    life,  and    live 
amid  tiie  wUds  of  Dakota,  a  death  in  life  so  far 
as  what  she  craved  most  of  earthly   good  was    con- 
cemed?     But  she    held   steadily  to    duty  as   she 
read  ite  page,  hoping  sometime  to  findherlife  had 
not  been  marred  by  her  own  blindness,  as  to  what 
truly  was  God's  purposes  toward  her. 

The    days    grew    shorter.     Christmas  came    and 
went,  which  she  worked  hard  to  make  very  joyous 
to  the  children,  who  were  now  dimly  comprehend- 
ing the  meaning    of    the    Christmas    celebrations. 
After  that  tiiey  settied  down  to  the  uphill  task  of 
nurturing  mind  and  body,  tiirough  tiie  storms  and 
cold— a  very  difficult  thing   to  do;   for   tiie   frost 
had  so  many  crannies  at  which  to  fi-eely  enter,  that 
the  sohooUhildren  found  it  nearly  as  much  as  they 
couU  do  to  keep  their  bodies  from  sufEeiing,  Avith- 
out  paying  much   attention    to   tiieir  mental    out- 
fitting. 


—  -  1 


f""    "buT^tpt  cheerful  «.d  content    Sh. 
facturea,  but  *.  m  ^„„,,  ^ 

«„  v«jr  -^eU  «.t»««l  «'"'  ^,^     J 

her  I«y  «  'he  «.»»  ^-^^  _^,^  „,    ^ 

OTrd  to  d»a.,    «>d    the   remo 

He.  U.e  h«i  heen  e.ng«h^ly  ft«  ft  ^^_^ 

tad,  thu.  ta  ^»  rit^aon,  taken  .. 

-r      M  «.  .te«Uly  inc«»»ng  now,  the  on. 
The  cold  «.  ."""y  ^^^^  yjj^,^  t.i^ 

-err.: : -^o^  .Lu.  -  ^ 

'*™'^  .K  ,t    rchUdrwe«  taken  .udde^ 

■*«  ""»*«  °*  ^t,  ta  eoch  c»e  being  e^oUy  rim- 
ly  ai — the  symptoms  in  e«cn  c 


JN  ^XTBEMIB. 


4M 


BRO. 

iVie    pel-son   out  ol 
could    be     mftnu- 
and  content.     She 
r  salaiy,  whicli  waa 
[or;  ftud  so  »Ue  got 
dthout  looking  foiv 
tote   reward*   of    au 
npenae. 

^  free  from  ronuince, 
year   of  her  savings 
b  exciting  and  fasci- 
t  situation,  taken  as 
portunities  to  further 
1    with    her    environ- 

reasing  now,   the  one 
eeding  bitterness  being 
ore   intense,  since  th« 
me,  and  the  »un  h»A 
d  journey  towards  the 
coui»ge  was    just    be- 
fancied  the  woi-st  ex- 
paased  away,  when  one 
en  wei-e  taken  sudden- 
ly case  being  exactly  sim- 


ilar.      She    applied    the     simple     I'emediea    with 
which  the   medicine  chest  was  supplied  for  colds 
and    the     usual     ailments    of     the     young,    but 
found  them  unavailing.     lu  her  extremity  she   de- 
spa^'hed  one   of  the  few   well  h«Js  after  the  near- 
est physician,  who  lived  some  six   or  seven  miles 
away.      He    came,    and    as    Mildred   accomi^med 
him  fi..m  cot  to  cot    in  the    long,  chUly  domi- 
tory,  his   face  became   veiy  giBve.    She   asked  at 
last  what  w.«   wrong.     His  reply  was  very  bnef, 
..  Measles."     She  shuddei-ed,  knowing  so  well  what 
that  meant  for  her  dark-skinned  boys  and  girb.      A 
stove  was  set  up  in  both  the  boys'  and  girls    dor- 
mitories, and  blazing  fii^  kept  buitung,  while   the 
doctor  st»id  with  them   all  night;   and  it  chanced 
to  be   one   of   the  seveiest  of   the  the  season.     A^ 
the  wind  howled,  and  the  stoi-m  laged  wildly,  Mil- 
dred could  not  help  smiling  at  herself  for   feehng 
so  safe  amid    the   fmy  of  the   elements    fmm    the 
mei^  fact  of  bavin        strong  man   in    the  house. 
The  doctor   left  her   ai  the  early   dawn  with   the 
premise  to  return  as  soon  as  possible,  and  cairyuig 
with  him  a  telegmm  to  the  neai-est  mission^taUon 
whei-e  help  would  be  likely  to  be  avaiUUe,  begging 
for  help.    But  it  was  two  days  before  he  wtui-ned, 


-K. 


484 


^^  MILltRKD  KENT'S  HKRO. 

other  a«U..  l.n,«»tively  denu«.<tog  to   !«"■>«• 
When  l.e  enW^l  '!■«  >•»•»»  *■«  "«"*    °™'  °.t 
tanU,..  him,  while  -tiU  other.  -" ''^'W'"*  Tt  ^ 
d«.th  agony.     Mildred'-  1^  «  .!»  "-•«  h-™  «'  "^ 
d<K.r  of  *e  girW  domutory,  .«ra«l  hun  w.th   *^ 
look  ol  mi«.ry.     -"rhey  are  .U  gomg  to  d^e.  I  W 

Ueve,"   .he   murmared  hop.le»ly.     "I   •»   »'™* 
!;lph;herialu»«t  in,  their  thro.W.r.«h.te«.d 

™fw7r  remedies   are    you    n-ngr  the    doctor 

^kA  more  t»  turn  her  thought,  into  ^loAer  ehan- 
:!;tL  with  the  .>cp«=..«on  that  *e  had   been 

erappling  with  the  terrible  di«.«  he.»U. 
T[  tav.    been    burning  bri».ton.    ««l  Mowng 
.ulphur  into  their  thr<«t.,  M.dwia>  t>»»««5«'0J 
Jd  a  g«gl.  very  frequenUy.  and  I   g.ve  br^n^ 
and  berf  teain  a.  h«ge  qu«>t.t.e.  a.      c«.   foree 
r»n  .hem     I  have  been  afraid  of  making  dmnk- 
Z.  of  my  boy.,  in  »»  the,  get  over  thi^"  ^ 
«ad  with  a  pitiful  .mUe. 

„D„  you  tod  Mi«.  Brand  a  good  nu«7 
..She  h«.  not  been  in  the  room.  W.4  ft.  '^ 
^  fte  evening  after  you  were  here.     She  »  afra.d 

of  the  diphtheria."  .       .     ,„ 

„How  do  ftey  get  on  while  you  are  deepmg? 


MMMHMW 


mam 


•■«■ 


T 


IS  EXTREMIS. 


485 


»  HKKO. 

nding  his   presence, 
iree  rigid  forms  ooiif 
rare  straggling  in  the 
M  she  met  him  at  the 
jtartled  him  with   its 
U  going  to  die,  I  he- 
asly.     "I    »*n   afraid 
hroats  are  white  and 

using?"  the    doctor 
fhts  into  another  chan- 
,n  that  she  had    heen 
igease  herself, 
irimstone    and  blowing 
id  with  the  larger  ones 
y,  and  I   give   brandy 
untitles  as  I  can   force 
xaid  of  making  drunk- 
ley  get  over  this,"   she 

1  a  good  nurse?" 

he  rooms  with  the  sick 

vrere  here.     She  is  afraid 

rhile  you  are  sleeping?" 


«I  am  not  conscious  of  having  slept   since  you 
left;  but  they  have  died  in  spite  of  all  my  care, 
she  moaned  bitterly. 

The  doctor  turned  and  examined  the   throat  of 

the  nearest  girl.  ,   ,.  i...     •        a«, 

uit  is  one  of  the  worst  types  of  diphthena  Are 
you  not  afraid?"  he  whispered,  so. that  the  chddren 
could  not  hear. 

"Yes."  .  .        «?" 

"What  will  you  do, -leave  here  at  once? 
.Not  unless  death  releases   me    until   competent 
nurses  come,"  she  said  with  grieved  surprise  that  he 
should  judge  her  so  lightly. 

ulf  I  assure  you  that  by  remaining  m  this  putnd 
air  in  your  present  exhausted  state,  your  life  is  al- 
most  sure  to  be  the  forfeit-what  then?" 

.If  you  will  stay  to-night  I  will  gladly  rest  and 
sleep;  but  I  shall  certainly  not  leave  ^ ^^^^^ 
ened,  suffering  children  to  meet  d«*^^  *^7  .  J^^ 
spoke  calmly,  the  weary,  sad  face  turned  pitifully 
towards  a  little  child  struggUng  in  the  agony  of 
death  by  suffocation. 

.Then  T  shall  most  assuredly  remain.  Go  and 
tell  Miss  Brand  to  warm  your  bed  and  get  a  hot 
fire  started  in  your  room,  -or  stay,  I  wUl  gxve  my 


4ge  ir/AMM  xejvra  hero. 

,,   .      ..;«iv  — "without  doubt 

,„„  „o«W  OK-ute  them  y"-"-     «^f  ^  ,„^ 
tal  history.  i^^   deli- 

„i  „.™.h  jd  P«  y^^  ^^^  ^^^„^  ,^ , 

*»  '«>""•  .*^r  sh.  WM  doing  her  be.1  here  *. 
„vy  cheerfully.  Sh.J»"  J  Mttdred  gh».eed 
.,„„efor.hor«o,»ng^l««he_^^^^  ^  .^ 

.t  the  i.ict»«»  ^  *«  ""  „„a  .11  ih.  „*er 

™„.e,,  her  ovrn  mother,  !»'«"'•  "  „  ^ 

thought,  When  «ould. he  greet  th«»  g- 

e,er,  on  the«,  e«thly  ehore.  ^,_^^ 

She  h«i  not  written  ->  ^^^y^^^^  ^-<^ 

"""'*.,""?   n!    B^d    «a.    etching    her. 
her    «'»'=«;/'!™^  mother  .nd  let  her 

uYou  should  write  to  yom 


HERO. 

y »4  without  doubt 

4011.    Besides,  I  mu«t 
d.     I  uhall  be  ioroed 

ger." 
little   creature'*  »ido 
tiful    liftnda    for    bor 
It  was  an   hour  bo- 
w  struggle  was  ended 
liad  begun  iU  immoiv 

,r   own   room,  its   dell- 
kde  it  seem  next   thing 
there,   busUing   about 
loing  her  best  hew   to 
,here.     Mildred  glanced 

m Gi-atwroe'*  ^^^  ^** 

.rtrait,  and  all  the  other 
i  filled  her  eyes  as  she 
,  greet  them  aU  again,  if 

«?  v 

xer  mother  since  the  sick- 

l  the  anxiety  such  tidings 

ey  would  be  wondering  at 

«nd    was    watching    her. 

jrour  mother  and   let  her 


IN  KXTKKMIM.  •" 

b.    pr.p««l    i.>    c«    »'     ^    •"'""•"    "'"    ■*"' 
"Twe  M    !«>"    nvmy  thing,    undon.   U»t  w. 

for  th.m   to   l.«.r    fn.™    .tn.»B«"    «"'  5""   "'™ 
d..d,  .nd  th.y  not  knowing  that  you   *.«   even 

"ti  ,m   not    .iok,  only    d,»df»Uy    Ured,"  «. 

..1  know  that,  .nd  if  you'll  g.t  rigl"  i"""*"* 
ni  bring  you  .  W  ot  hot  br«.dy  ».d  w...r. 
The  doctor  ori.r.d  m.   to  give  it  I"  y<-»- 
..y,  on,  poi«.n  kill,  .notheri  «.d  b™ndy  »  on, 
ot  the  be.t  poiwn.  for  diphthoru.. 

.1  have  not  got  th.  diphth,ri.,"  MddK^  ««d. 

looking  .lightly  »lann«i.  , 

..M.yb,  not,  hut  h,    «y.   yo"    .y..«m    mu.t 

l«,  in,pr.gn..«l  ^^  it  «»  •»-  «"-"  »" 
h.v,  b«,n  in  that  dr»dful  "'«'"?'-""  ."'Zd 
ul  „iU  trf«  my  poi«n  ^-^ay  .hen,"  Mddrod 
«ad  with  .  .nul,.  Her  comp^^on  left  th,  room 
"prp^e  it,  «b,n  Mildr«l  k„,lt  .t  h,r  W..de, 
X  in  prayer  th,  oon.ol.tion  only  G^  - 
gi„.    W  J    M«th«    Bn.nd   r,tum«l    wth    h« 


t 


488 


MILDRED   KESra  HERO. 

Licine.  *e    found    her    p.Uont    l™*";*    '^ 
.„d  very  weary,  but  with  eouutenanoe  ..  autroulW 

as   a  child's.  , 

„V„„   do  beat  anyone  I   ever   knew   for   keep^ 
i„g  up  under  trouble,  really  you  look  qmte  hap- 

^^:rer';  look  otherw^e  while  InOod. 
Ueepin^r-  She  .poke  «.My.  «.d  more  to  hereeU 
than  to  her  companion.  ,  i„      it 

.  Your  religion  i.  different  tan.  n.oet  P«>Pl"-    " 

A      T>iprfl  is  more  diner- 
seems  i-eally  to  do  you  good.     There      m 

ence  in  religion  than  anything  I  know  of. 
ence  ^"        »  medicine,  and  turning  on  her 

Mildred  drank  ^er  medicine  ^ 

pillow,  was  sound   asleep   before    Miss   « 

left  the  room.  rr.^ 

She  awakened  wi*  a  ..«t  and  1«>^«*2bI^1 
^„  wae  flooded  with  eunehine,  and  Martha  Br«.d 

""llCveT'e  been  .alee."  ahe  »id  with  a 

'^"oltu  Have,   fo—  «- hour. - 
the  longest  nL  I  ever  watched  over  before  .n  n.y 

life." 

uTs  it  another  day?"  ^ 

.;ye.,andwellon.odinner.tin>e.     I  wa.  gett"* 


tS  EXTXEMIB. 


489 


HERO. 

lent    looking    white 
mance  as  untroubled 

ver   knew   for   keep- 
you  look  quite  hap- 

yise    while    in    God's 
and   more   to  herself 

rom  most  people's.    It 
There  is  more  difEer- 
^g  I  know  of." 
le,  and  turning  on  her 
fore    Miss   Brand  had 

t  and  looked  up.     The 
hine,  and  Martha.Brand 

sleep,"  she   said  with  a 

about   fifteen  hours  — 
ched  over  before  in  my 


iner-time. 


I  was  getting 


uneasy  about  you;  and  besides,  the  doctor  wants 
to  leave;  and  those  poor  little  Indians  are  dying 
off  like  so  many  sick  chickens.  He  says  they 
mustn't  be  left  alone  any  longer  than  can  be  pos- 
sibly helped."  . 

u  I  will  be  there  dii-ectly,"  Mildred  said,  nsing 
so  hastUy  that  she  turned  dizzy  and  faint. 

uDear  mel   if  you  get  sick  what  will  become  of 
us  all?"  her  companion  said  dolefully. 
"The  Lord  will  provide." 

u  Maybe  so.  Any  way,  its  high  time  provision 
was  made  fi^m  some  quarter.  I've  written  to  your 
„.other,  and  a  dismal  letter  I  made  of  it ;  for  just 
as  I  was  beginning  it,  late  last  night,  the  doctor 
came  in  and  said  two  more  were  dead." 

"I  believe  you  meant  it  kindly,  but  I  am  very 
sorry  that  you  wrote,  my  mother  wUl  be  in  such 

distress."  -^ 

uThey  will  be  prepared  for  'most  anything  after 
they  get  my  letter,  and  worse  news  won't  come 
BO  hard  on  them,"  was  the  reply,    very  cheerfully 

jriven.  ,        , 

"You  are  incorrigible,"  MUdred  murmured,  and 

and  then  ceased  the  argument;  while  she   rapidly 

completed  her  toilet  and  hastened  to   the  doctors 


490  MILDRED  KEHTS  HEM. 

^Uy    ,»    the  Utoheu     or    ^  ^^  ^^ 

When  it  was  eaten,  sbe  was  ag*"* 
the  sick  and  dying- 


BERO. 

as   to    know    which 
aped   to    the  higher 
e    sent  her  back  di- 
txe    breakfast  Martha 
18  to  make  palatable, 
again  left  alone  with 


CHAPTER   XXXV^II. 


HBSLP  AT    LAST. 

NOTHER  sad   day  and   night   for   Mildred 
and  her  sick  ones  passed  slowly  away,  and 
_  when  the  doctor  came    the    following  day, 

he  found  five  more  still  forms  among  his  littie  patients. 
Martha  Brand,  who  ventured  no  farther  now  in  the 
stricken  house  than  the  dining-room,  beckoned  him 
in  by  the  back  way.    Her   usually  contented  face 
was  getting  haggard  and  terror-stricken.     She  told 
him  how  busy  death  had  been  there  in  his  absence, 
and    then    with   more   cheerfuhiess   added:    "One 
good  thing.  Miss   Kent   will   be    able    to  lay  back 
soon,  and  rest,  even  if  they  don't  send  nurses,  for 
they'll  all  be  dead." 


492 


MILDRED   KENT'S   HERO. 


uAre  none  of  them  convalescent  yet?"  the  doc- 
tor asked. 

u  Well,  yes ;  she  did  call  t«  me  through  the  door 
this  morning  that  she  thought  four  of  them  were 
out  of  danger  now." 

"Why  did  she  talk  through  the  door? 
"Well,  you  see,  I  am    getting  scared  of  her, - 
one  can't  be  too   careful    whei«    one's   life   is  con- 
cemed,   ite   all    we   have,  and   those    children   are 
nothing  to  me,  now  are   they?"  ,      ,   _,, 

Thus  appealed  to,  the  doctor  said  shortly, 
.It  seems  not."  He  left  directly,  after  giving  or- 
ders  to  have  MUdred's  room  warmed  at  once,  as 
he  intended  remaining  in   order   to   give  her  some 

rest.  i_ 

When  the  hour  came  just  at  night^fall  to  waken 

her,  his  heart  smote  him;  for  she  was  sleeping  so 

Boundly,  he  had  difficulty  in  arousing  her. 

He  spoke  encouragingly  when  she  joined  hmi  in 

the  girl's  dormitory. 

.There  wiU  certainly  be  nurses  here  by  to-mor- 
row,"  he  said,  "I  sent  a  telegram  again  yesterday 
more  peremptory  than  the  first."  ^ 

ul  am  not  sure  that  I  can  endure  the  stram 
„,ore  than  Another  night.  My  brain  feels  strange- 
ly,"  Mildred  replied. 


leRO. 

mt  yet?"  the  doc- 

e  through  the  door 
'our  of   them   were 

the  door?" 
ig  scared  of  her,  — 
,    one's   life   is  con- 
those    children   are 

actor    said    shortly, 

tly,  after  giving  or- 

warmed  at  once,  as 

ir   to   pve  her  some 

t  night-fall  to  waken 
she  was  sleeping  so 
urousing  her. 
len  she  joined  him  in 

irses  here  by   to-mor- 
gram  again  yesterday 

St." 

an    endure   the   strain 
[y  brain  feels  strange- 


BELT  AT  LAST. 


493 


uYour  throat  is  not  sore?"  he  asked  anxiously. 

ulTiere  is  nothing  wrong  with  me  but  loss  of 
Bleep,  and  the  strkin  of  overwork  and  anxiety. 
You  cannot  imagine  how  dreadful  it  U  for  me  to 
be  alone  with  the  dying.  I  never  realized  what 
death   was    until    the  h«t  few   days."     She  shud- 

dered.  u  *  •*  t 

"It  is  bitter  leaving  you  here  alone.    But  if  i 

stay  another  life  may  be  sacrificed.    What  do  you 

advise  ?  "  ,, 

uOne   must   do   their  duty  at  whatever  cost 
There  was  a  quiver   of   pain   about   the   lips   tfiat 
still  spoke  bravely,  but  he   could   not  know  how 
she    longed    to    have    him    remain     through    the 

night. 

"If  I  had  not  given  my  promise  I  should  run 
the  risk  and  stay.  It  seema  as  much  my  duty  to 
be  here  as  anywhere."     He    stood   irresolute. 

"Is  it  a  littte  child  whose  life  w  in  danger? 

"No,  a  woman's  — a  mother's." 

"That  decides,-her  necessity  is   greater  than 

mine."  , 

"Tliank  you  I"     The  doctor  said  no  more,  but 

left  abruptly. 

The  night  was  intensely  cold,  to  keep  the  fires 


MILDRED  KEST'B  HERO. 

baring  would  have  .lone  given  .uffleient  e«n>n« 
I  »  average  won»n;  but  in  '^^  ^J" 
^r^t  attention  that  the  very  ..ek  r-i^^fZ 
U  performed  by  two  tired  h«>ds.  When  the 
^orTng  b^k.  and  the  .un  .hone  Wb% -- 
a.  .tiS,  white  prairiee,  .he  tried  to  f»»  *«  t^ke 
„,   another  day.  but  her  atreng*  wa.  «■  w-^  <^ 

,he  reali^  «  ^P  -"  "°'  '°°;  '"■;l«r  Z 
„uet  Buffer  for  the  care  she  could  no  lou^r  P"^ 
The  two  Urgeat  boy,  in  the  «bool.  and  the  m«t 
aifflcult  to  control,  ahe  hdieved  were  mp^y  «^ 
Zlung  Ae  chiU  river.    Ve.7  aUently  liey  h«l 

^rworde  Tahe  h«i  urged  *eu>  «« /"k  *« 
Jrd     She  felt  an  anxiety  .or  theee  Ud.  such  a, 
rid  not  experienced  .or  the  others  whom  she 
b^ieved  were  either  .00  young  U>  be  accoun^ble 
riir  -■  or  who   had   given   her  com.o*ng 
evidence  be.or.   they   died  that  they  we«  ready 
Z  the  great  change.    Every  sp«e  —.-«<'; 
t:tedJth.m.      Their  coia  stood  s^^  by  »^ 
,he  could  conver«,  with  them  together.    Tovmrfs 
truing  .a  she  was  pleading  witb  .hem,  one  o.  the 
1^  u,urmured.    "What  are  you  oryng  for? 

„For  grief  to  think  you   must  «.  «K,n  die  and 
cannot  enter  heaven." 


-  ^ 


HERO. 

a  sufficient  exercine 
,   addition    was   the 
sick  require,  all  to 
hands.     When    the 
aone   brighUy  across 
ed  to  face  the  tasks 
th  was  so  wasted  that 
soon  sent,  the  sick 
■ould  no  longer  give, 
jchool,  and  the  most 
ved  were  rapidly  ap- 
5ry  silently  they  had 
olid  faces  listened  to 
d  them   to  seek   the 
or  these  lads  such  as 
the  others  whom  she 
ing  to   be  accountable 
given   her  comforting 
that  they  were   ready 
f  spare  moment  was  de- 
stood  side  by  side,  and 
jm   together.     Towards 
J  with  them,  one  of  the 
e  you  crying  for?" 
must   so  soon  die  and 


HELP  AT  LABT. 


495 


iil  would  go  there  if  I  could;    I  don't  want  to 
go  to  hell."     His  face  worked  convulsively.       She 
opened  her  Bible  and  read  the   story  of   the    thief 
on  Calvary  who  in  his  hour  of  mortal   agony  asked 
for  a  place  in  Paradise,  and   his  prayer  was  grant- 
ed;   then  with  a  few  words  of  entreaty  and  coun- 
sel she  turned  to  still    further  promises  to  sinners 
such   as     they,   ending    with   that    most   gracious 
promise  of  all,  —  "  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  He 
gave   His   only  begotten    Son,  that   whosoever   be- 
lieveth  in  Him  should  not   perish,  but  have   ever- 
lasting life." 

"I  have  been  praying  for  a  good  while,  but  I 
don't  seem  to  feel  any  difference,"  he  murmured 
huskily;  "long  before  I  got  sick." 

"So  have    I."    the   other  lad   said,   with   equal 

earnestness. 

"I  believe  if  you  will  tell  God  out  aloud  just 
what  you  want,  He  will  answer  your  prayer.  You 
have  been  ashamed  to  let  us  know  you  were  seek- 
ing Him ;  and  He  does  not  hear  such  prayers." 

The  hoarse  muffled  voice  was  raised  as  clearly 
as  disease  and  wasted  strength  would  permit,  ask- 
ing for  pardon  and  a  place  with  God  in  heaven," 
while  Mildred  on  her  knees  at  his  bedside  softiy 


496  ^'^^**^  '^^^^'^  '^''^' 

.*  A.   to  her   Father  in  heaven  for 
sobbed  her  gratitude   to   her 

answering  her  prayers.  _ 

.Teacher,  I  do  believe  ihe  Lord  hea«      yj^ 

,  n,at  he  will  take  me  to  be  with  Hvm  ng 
er,  and  tl«t  he  wu  ^^^  ^^^^  ^f 

,,ay.    ««-";^\'t^ryou  get  there.    I  won  t 
it  is  years  and  year^  be^  y  J  ^  ^  ^^^ 

forget,  never,  never.      His   voi 
.Msp^r  but  his  face  w«  «^    •  ^^^^^  ^,^ 

ul  shall  remember  to   look  *<^   ^  j   ^^ 

^„  Ma.  .a  >-'^^ j^^rrr    HOW 

U«»ea  eoontry  when  God  •»*"  ,  chrtot 

L  .nd  learned  1.0  to  love  h^l       S 
a.e  hair  h«ok  fcom  the  cold,  aamp  brow 

movement  of  the  IM  y,,^  ^,. 

at^ntiou.     She  t.rn«l ;  ^<2,\^  ^  ^^,  o. 
™bively.  but  aeafli  w».  too  ne«  ^    >"       ^ 

^     -Won-t  you  •^/-'^r^^La   ChrUt, 
.v„t  soon  ..art  on  *at  long  ^nme^^       _^ 

a..  Lord  Je.n.,  to   b="  ^*  ""'  ""^ 


.^.  -  1 


HELP  AT  LAST. 


IVI 


EBO. 

ther  in  heaven  for 

)rd  hears  my  p«y- 
,  be  with  Him  right 
etching  for  you,  if 
L  get  there.    I  won  t 
ce   died   to  a  mere 

at. 

for  you  among  the 
8tUl   waters   of   the 
kes  me  there.    How 
we  learned  of  Christ 
l^iml"    She  stroked 
damp  brow   whereon 

J. 

u  gave  up  your  happy 

aians  and  teach  us  of 

up  at  her  as  she  stood 

Lewy  eyes.     A  resUess 

other  cot  arrested  her 

face  was  working  con- 

j  near  him  to  permit  of 

K>k  to  Christ?   You  too 

ag  journey,  and   Christ, 

Ith  us,  waiting  to  make 


vou  his  chUd."     Sh«  spoke  with  an  eagerness  only 

those  can    understand   who   have    stood  by  a  soul 

unsaved  in  the  moment  of  death. 

u  Won't  you  pray  for  me  ?"     He  turned  his  eye. 

imploringly  to  MUdred. 

When  her   prayer  was   ended,  he   added   a  few 

broken  petitions  of   his  own,  a  gkd   Ught  shimng 
through  his  eyes  as  she  arose  and  looked  down  at 
him.     -I  don't  think  Peter  will  have  to   go   alone 
to  that  lovely  place.     I  shall  be  with  him,"   the 
poor,  trembling  lipe  murmured.     ''How  good  you 
iTve  been  to  us  1     But  the  Lord,  I  think,  loves  me 
more  even  than  you  do;  how  I  want  to  see   Him 
and  thank  Himl    I  wish  I'd  found   it  out  before. 
I  might  have  helped  you  so  much;  but  now  it  is 

too  late."  ,  , 

« Never  mind,"  Peter  whispered,  "there  wiU  be 
tame  by.md4,y  to  show  how  much  we  love  her 
-in  the  green  fields,"  he  murmured  ^^^^^yj^^ 
death  was  fast  settling  down  upon  him.    He  passed 

away  first;  afterward  his  companion  followed  hm 
peacefully,  under  the  guidance  possibly  of  some 
splendid  seraph  who,  no  doubt,  bore  the  untutored 
gpirit  of  the  Indian  hid  with  equal  delight  as  if  it 
had  been  the  Queen  of  England,  passing  on  to  »• 


earthly  shores.  ^^   ^ome, 

'"'°''**itln^oT«.o*„  night. 

Bleep  -   '»•'   Tt  ZL^'    -*"='-    " 

g„„  upon  her  that  «  *.  n^t  .o        ^  ^^^^^ 

overcom.,  .nd  *«  «  ^^^  ^  j^  p«t.d 

Bu.  .t  nin.  o  dock  ^J  g  ^^^  ^„  ^„  „, 

her.    No  .tram  of  -»"»■"*•       ^j  „„m„oni.taco 
Wl  ,»ch  Wcom.  harmony^  «  t  ^^      ^^ 

went  to  the  door,  h"*  M"*'^     ^^^   .trough 

cai..  »w  her  conducttng  two   u™ 
her.    She  »»  _^,  ^^  mefc.„  fir.. 

Mildred  returned  to  her  on  rg.  _^^ 

.U«  a  very  natural  *«°".*° '°1*  a,em  «*e.»^ 
i„lw.oh«..nd.«»t«^^g^*;^_^,^^^ 

„en...     Their  t«v^r-nk>ng   o«,up  ^^ 

^  „a  then  *«^  7;;^;:;  „  Zy  looked 
,„„«n,  with  »  world  of  »^^J        .^^.,  h., 
at  fl>.  lac  of  the  teav.  g"l  ^ho  h«i 
t  mth  .uch  MU«onfee. 


■.'^pi*ifc" 


HELP  -AT  LABT, 


4M 


lERO. 

ver  Been  on   these 

10  help  had  come, 
jrror,  Mildred  f«wed 
ather  night. 

g  her.      While  «he      . 
iniBter    medicine    or 
Bleep;  and  the  fear 
rht  wore  on,  and  sleep 
^e   would  he   utterly 
without   fire    or   care, 
of  sleigh-hells  greeted 
,  ever  fell  on  her  ear 
aa  that  common-place 
the   frosty   air.     She 
,ha  Brand   was   hefore 
,g  two  hidies   through 
mth  of  the  kitehen  fire. 
,rge,  meanwhile  repres- 
^  join  the  new  arrivals 
,  getting  ihem  refresh- 
occupied  hut   a   short 
to  her,  kindly,  helpful 
ympaOiy  as   they  looked 
^rl  who  had  stood  at  her 


She  took  them  from  cot  to  cot,  explaining  the 
requirements  of  each  child,  although  her  eyelids 
drooped  heavily  and  her  limbs  almost  refused  to 
obey  the  behests  of  her  resolute  will,  untU  every 
direction  was  given,  when,  with  a  glad  good-night, 
she  went  to  her  room.  Such  a  sleep -sound, 
dreamless,  as  she  had  that  night,  would  surely 
knit  up  many  a  "ravelled  edge"  of  care  and  wean- 
aesB. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 


WBLOOHK  SEWS. 

ARTHA  BRAND'S  letter  reaohed  it«  dee- 
UmUon  too  Ute  in  the  evening  for  Mr,.. 
-u-  Kent  to  do  «.ything  in  the  matter  but 
Ue  a«*e  through  the  .Ueno.  of  the  long  night  ««d 
aank   .bout   her   chad,  «.d    the   danger  to  wWb 

Ae   ™.   expo.ed,-her   only   rehe!   a""!*"*^ 
ImJ^ing  7her  care  to  God.    At  day^wn  -he 
rTd  fof  On«.mere.    In.tin.Uvely  .he  turned  to 
Tgl-  Bverett,  knowing  that  her  trouU^wou^ 
^o  be  hi..     She   found   the  long  walk   after  h« 
deepl««  night  w»»yingi  but  the  «r  ™  mvigo. 
^^"bile  the  beauty  of  a  bright  morning  even 
rt  city,  «.»*.. un  coming  up  from  hun- 
ted and  caeting  hi.  roey  bean^  on  cloud  form,  o. 

BOO 


T 


[XXVIII. 


NEWS. 


S  letter  reached  ita  dea- 
in  the  evening  for  Mrs. 
thing  in  the  matter  but 
ice  of  the  long  night  and 
,d    the   danger  to  which 
,nly   relief   the    repeated 
God.     At  day-dawn  she 
Btinctively  she  turned  to 
g  that  her  trouble  would 
the  long  walk   aft«r   her 
but  the  air  was   invigoi- 
,f  a  bright  morning  even 
coming  up  from  his  a*ure 
beams  on  cloud  form,  or 


WELCOMK  NEWB. 
hill  and  valley,  or  projecting  long  shadows  of  t«es 
and  houses  across  the  path,  had   more   of   comfort 
for  her  than   the   faces   of   average   acquaintances. 
When   she    reached   Grassmere   she   rang    the  bell 
timidly,  only  just  recollecting   that  probably  both 
Mrs.    Everett   and    Douglass   might   be   still   fast 
asleep.    She  had  only  a  few  seconds  to  be  troubled 
on  the  subject,  for  the  door  was  thrown  oi,en  and 
Douglass  himself  stood   before   her:   ''I  aaw  you 
coming.    Have  you  bad  news  for  me?" 

She  gave  lum  the  letter,  and  then  sank  mto  an 
easy  chair  that  stood  near  the  door -her  heart 
Bomehow  comforted  by  the  look  of  pain  on  his 
face  He  crushed  the  letter  in  his  iiand,  as  he 
turned  to  her,  saying:  ^^  shall  start  for  Dakota 
immediately.    WiU  you  give  me  authority  to  bnng 

Mildred  home  with  me?"  ,.,,..* 

».  Yes,  it  is  time  some  one  interfered,  if  she  is  to 
be  saved  from  martyrdom,"  Mr..  Kent  said,  with  a 
catehing  of  tiie  breath.  Tlie  fear  was  growing  upon 
her  that  they  might  already  be  too  late. 

"Will  you  come  to  the  Ubrary  and  write  her  a 
few  lines  whUe  I  am  getting  ready?"  he  asked. 
uMy  mother  has  not  yet  come  down  stairs. 

She  arose  and  followed  him  silentty.    He  hastily 


502  UILDnED  KENT'S  BERO. 

L  returned,  a  taU-ho»r  later,  the  letter  * 

*'"aTttuVu  oan^e  .  early,"  he  »id.     "With 
1  h^^  I  can  oateh  the  t™in,  thereby  saving 
R  little  nasxe  i  camajre  is  wait- 

sevex^l  hours  on  my  ^o-^^'.^^;^^,'       home 
ing;   if  you  come  with  me,  it  wiU  teke  y 
after  I  get  to  the  station."  ^ 

Th«v  entered  the  carnage,  when  the  noises 
They  enwr«  v«.Telv  reachmg   the 

zrr  ho-  -  ^'^  -'"""'  '""''^ 

terry  Street  |^_^^  ^j  ^to 

'"•"rCwLd'ortidinga.    AndU^ea 
.  days,  whde  they   w  ^^^^  ^_^^  ^^. 

a»  B««  «»»  °  1  W»um  raa^ys.  What  « 
"*"  "'/"^  Ir^^«iI,r»«eriBg  «.h  eold,  aad 
Mildred  «.»  *;'«*"*  ^,i,^    g„.    atooet  »»- 

p.,h.v«  >>"'^;  ^ryeCeirpeean-ewithit. 
parable,  «.d  then  the  ^_^_^^^  be«.   the 

Woom.  «•     " -T^,  Hon>.  by  .«.n>orrow 
^^y  r"M„  Xnt  re^l  the   «rd.   over    ».d 

r'llel'o^t^-^-^-^'"^*""''^' 


8  BERO. 

ind   ihen  left.    When 

,r,  the  letter  was  writ- 

,arly,"  he  said.    "With 
,e  train,  thereby  saving 
The  carriage  is  wait- 
it  wiU  take  you  home 

B,  when  the  horses  were 

,ed,  barely  reaching   the 

jump  on  board  the  mov- 

was    turned,   and    the 

ren  slowly  towards  Mul- 

at  the  hours  crept  into 
for   tidings  I    And   then 
f  storm  with  huge  block- 
stem   raUways.    What  if 
suffering  with    cold,  and 
mxiety    grew    almost  un- 
Llow  envelope  came  with  its 
id,— "Mildred   bears   the 
,  ^h  home  by  to-morrow 
^d  the   words   over    and 
kfulness  dropped  unheeded; 


WELCOME  NEWB. 


m 


and  then  she  arose  with  a  very  glad  heart,  and  began 
the  preparations  for  Mildred's  homeKsoming.  Paul 
looked  on  with  a  mixture  of  approval  and  surprise, 
but  at  last  he  remonstrated  over  the  lavish  out- 
lay. 

"  If  Mildred  was  returning  from  a  starvation  trip 

in  search  of  the  North  Pole,  she  could't  begin  to 
eat  her  share  of  all  these  good  things." 

"I  ean't  help  doing  it,  besides,  there  are  plenty 
to  enjoy  what  she  leaves.  I  want  my  mission- 
class  to  share  in  our  rejoicings." 

"That  will  do  very  well;  but  as  for  Mildred,  if 
she  has  Douglass  at  her  side,  she  wiU  be  willing 
to  give  her  share  of  the  dainties  to  any  one  that 

wants  them." 

His  mother  smUed  a  Uttle   sadly.    "Was    Paul's 
conjecture  correct,  or  was  Mildred  so  unlike  woman- 
kind in  general  that  her  heart  had  only  room   for 
duty  and  God?    If  so,  was  there  cause  for  regret? 
For  what  is  grander  for  any  soul  than  entire  con- 
secration to  the  Infinite  and  Eternal?"    Still  tiiere 
was  the  natural  longing  to  have  this  strong^ouled 
giri  near,  to  rest  on  in  hours  of  weakness,  to  comfort 
in  tiie  pain  that  soon  or  late  is  the   inevitable  lot 
of  all. 


50^  MILDRED   KEtiT^8   HKRO. 

„fme  Do«glM»  Evewtt  th«  ««>d<1  »»» 

do.     She  U  not  Uke  ft.  rest  of  .»,    «» 
a„t  but  ,«oriy  »«ed  A.  W.  ^  „„. 

„I  doubt  if  there  «.  .  do»n  g« 

*  i;ir«  h«r     It  seems   a   pity  sne    "»— 
toent  bke  hen  ^  ___^^  ^^j_^^  ,,^g 

pened  along  m  the  <u>y»  . 

Toung  girU  to  the   "»- ^"^„*f  „^„   have 
lenient  eon«ienoe,     ^^'^  .^l^,  ^,e  .»...» 

enjoyed  Oei-* --^'^''^^^^  ,,,«   her  heart 
her  .11  the  »K.«r  to  fl«  h«v_  ^^ 

^„„  to  be  n-oet  o,  u..^™.e^  ^_^  ^^  „, 

^...derabl,  «««™-    H^-^  f ,  «"^  "» 
worldUness  that  by  ngn  *^^,,,__ged  the  com- 

U«,  neither  o.  their  "^"^J^^^    life 

quite  enjoyaUc.    Hb  """■  ^io  fwtAUing 

"*-*  ^rio';:"^*  ^ -"--^ " 

enow,    and  hoprng  ^^i^. 

^tem  road,  that  Mda«dJ»  ^^ 

'■^  ""t:  :°;e   t^^*  chapter   of  John', 
you     open    It    to    tne  j^  j^^ 

Gospel,  and  read   the   twen^-fifti.  vers, 
been  haunting  me  for  days. 


/^ 


*8   EEBO. 

ai  be  SO  insane  as   to 
second   time?"   Paul 

•ture  what  Mildred  will 
t  of  us,"  was  ^^  reply 

lad. 

lozen  girls  on  this  con- 
,   pity  she   hadn't  hap- 
len  men  enjoyed  feeding 
«cauBe   they  had  incon- 
red   would  rather   have 
xce  it  would  have  token 
heaven  where   her  heart 
^\me."     Paul  spoke  with 
le  had  got  the  share  of 

belonged  t«  Mildred,  so 
meters  possessed  the  com- 
Ubrium    that   makes    life 
,iher  was  silent,  whUe  he 
y  watohing  the  fast^falling 
'it  might    not  llock    the 
^  was  then  <^««^"8- 
B  stend  heside  you.      WiU 
twelfth   chapter    of   Johns 
,wenty.fifth  verse?     It  has 
lays." 


WELCOME  SEWB.  W* 

Paul  complied  with  his  mother's  request,  and 
read,  a  little  solemnly,  the  words:  "  'He  that 
loveth  his  life  shaU  lose  it;  and  he  that  hateth  his 
life  in  this  world  shaU  keep  it  unto  life  eternal.' 
It  means  soul  as  well  as  life,"  he  f-aid  eagerly. 

«MUdred  comprehends  its  true  meaning,  my  son. 
I  am  not  sui«   if   she   is   not  wiser  than  any   of 

us." 

♦'You  won't  encourage  her  in  the  belief?"  Paul 

asked  anxiously. 

"No;  but  I  shaU  ask  God  to  direct  her." 
Paul  sighed  heavUy.    It  seemed  to  him  a  foolish 
thing  to  be  living  in  one  world,  and  yet   to  such 
an  extreme  degree  to  parteke  of  the  spirit   of  an- 
other  world  diametrically  opposed  to  it. 


■''  is 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

«»«  Bliininir  brillianUy 

Marto  Bnmd  look«l  m  a,^t.tmg 

""'         f^rt«?  .xh.»«ted   deeper  ^    »^»- 

i-E. ''O— •"  ""/^^^^^l  white  hrow, 
U,e  heavy  »«»»  of   h^  ^^  ,  ^^^y. 

.poke  ».ve»l  timee  beto«  *»  ^^^ 

The  blue  eyes  opened  ai  lot  " 

BO* 


f^ 


txxix. 


^as  shining   briUiantly 
^aste,  althougli  the  cold 
m  was   so  intense  that 
curtained  by  frost  nearly 

,  cautiously,  and  with  a 

£  the  plague  devastating 

Msumed  visible  form  and 

The  regular  breathing  of 

bed  sleeper  ^  w««^ 
ped  boldly  in  and     tting 

X  from  the  white  brow, 
re  she  received  a  reply. 
,  laat  in  a  mystified  way; 


TBE  END. 


607 


but  the  look  of  recognition  quickly  came  into  ihem, 
followed  as  suddenly  by  one  of  anxiety.  "  Do  the 
children  need  me?"  she  asked,  with  alarm. 

..  Oh  no,  but  there's  a  young  man  down  stairs 
as  impatient  to  see   you  as  I've  seen  any  one  this 
many  a  day." 
"Who  is  it?" 

"Well,  he's  kind  of  stem  like,  and  I  didn't  ask 
him  his  name;  but  he's  going  to  take  you  right 
away  as  soon  as  we  can  get  his  breakfast.  He 
saj's  your  mother  has  sent  for  you." 

"It  must  be  my  brotiier  Paul,"  Mildred  said,  as 
she  proceeded  hurridly  with  her  toUet,  while  she 
shivered  with  the  cold. 

"Brothers  as  a  rule  don't  seem  so  impatient  to 
see  their  sisters,  and  so  masterful  about  them;  but 
I  guess  you  are  a   queer  famUy  anyway,"   Martha 
Brand  said  dryly,  while  she   rendered  what    assist- 
ance  was  in  her  power.    "I'd   have   made  a  fire 
before  I  called  you;  but  that    young  man  was   m 
such  a  hurry  to  see  for  himself  that  you  were  aUve 
and  well,  I  hadn't  the  heart  to  keep  him   waiting. 
He's  very  good-looking,  but  I'm   not    surprised  at 
that,  for  good  looks  run  in  some  families  the  same 
as  consumption." 


608 


MILDRED  KEST'8  HERO. 

lp.u,  m».t  have  changed  very  much  ™»  h-t 
.ummer.  «  he  i.  very  good-lookmg  no.,  Mddred 
remarked,  irith  some  surpnee. 

„M.yh.  it.  the  contrast,  for  *•■»»'»"";; 
^  he.;  are  meetly  an  ordimuy-lootang  «.t.  No« 
see  nere  ««  „™„or«      It's   cold  enough 

aon-t  Wt  to  eay  yonr  P™^-    »  „„  ^ 

here  to  give  you  your  daa*   and^ 
of  making  a  martyr  of  yourself.     Ihe  Mra 

Mildred  smiled  at   her   companrons   odd  .^ 
^peaking  ahout  the  Lord,  «hile  a  -^  — ^^^ 
fLug  crept  into  her  heart,  m   sp..«    of 
at  finding  herself  once  more  --*'"'. 

„I.U  go  right  down  and  see  »'>"»'*"'"**?"' 
;    «ith   vour   brother  that  drove  him 
There's  a  man   with   jour    o  i,_Jda8t 

fronr   the   station.    We   must   get  some   hre.M«t 

1  « »     tVifire'a  not  ft  decent  trung 

f„r.hem;bnt,dearme.     the^sn  ^__^^  ^ 

i„  the  house  for  them  to  eat     If  y  ^^ 

the  ki.hen   after  you've^  et  h.m  J^e  ^^^  ^^^ 
you,  and  give   me   a   band.         i 
with  light^biscuitB  and  beef-steak.         ^^ 
.1  will  be  there  in  a  few  minutes. 
Max.ha  B W  left  the   room   lookmg   much  r. 
V      A    and   MUdied    went  down   stairs.     Opening 
ttJ  l^she   saw  standing  by  the   farthest 


/■ 


THE  END. 


m 


HERO. 

rery  much  since  last 
3king  now,"  Mildred 

ar    the  men  folks  we 
ny-looking  set.    Now 
rs.     It's   cold  enough 
,  and  there's  no  need 
I.     The  Lord  wouldn't 
i  room,  Yva.  certain." 
mpanion's   odd  way  of 
die  a  very  comfortable 
in   spite    of   the  cold, 
cared  for. 
see  about  the  breakfast, 
brother  that  di-ove  him 
ist   get  some   breakfast 
.ere's  not  a  decent  thing 
eat.     If  you'd  come   to 
let   him   take  a  look   at 
I.        You've   such  luck 

E^teak." 

5W  minutes.' 

room   looking   much  re- 

t  down   st^rs.     Opening 

standing   by  the   fai-thest 


window,  with  his  back  to  her,  a  stalwart  figure  in 
no-wise  answering  to  the  boyish  proportions  of  her 

brother  Paul. 

The  creaking  of  the  door,  as  she  closed  it  behind 
her,  caused  him  to  turn  suddenly.  The  face  that 
had  been  clouded  and  anxious  swiftiy  brightened 
as  he  saw  her  standing  there,  chilled  with  the 
cold,  weary,  and  pale,  but  nevertheless  looking 
much  moi-e  Uke  living  than  he  had  dared  to  hope 

for. 

"Thank  God  you  are  still  aUve! "  he  said,  with 
an  embrace  that  brought  the  blood  coursing  to  heart 
and  face.  "You  are  to  come  home  with  me,— 
he\-e  is  your  mother's  written  order." 

He  gave  her  the  letter,  which  she  held  unopened 

in  her  hand. 

«I  have  thought  it  all  out  the  last  few  months," 
she  repUed.  "I  can  fulfil  the  troth  I  pUghted  to 
God  in  my  chUdhood  in  othe-  ways  than  by  utr 
ter  self-sacrifice."  Her  voice  faltered,  while  her 
eyes  drooped  before  the  eager,  searehing  gaze  bent 
upon  her;  but  there  was  a  resolute  look  on  her 
face,  as  if  she  was  determined  at  any  cost  to  make 
her  confession,  no  matter  how  it  might  be  re- 
ceived. 


-■1 


HO 


„Do»  U«t  m»u  U^t  you  «.  r-iy  «»  *«  -y 
'tr.ou  .ta.    «i.h  .or   »."   .•.«  -*   «;^; 

™«  of  duty  had  b«„  _^^^  ^^ 

W  hor  h«>rt,  or  ^'^^J        ^^   „^   U-t 
U,6  work  for  her  to  do   wou  ^^ 

*e  would  only  ^  ^^^T^  ^  hlv.u  with 

„pw»d  road  that  lead.  «  Ood   an 

^  lUe-long  hunger  for  hua«m  ><"«••»*; 

t  of  hon.!  and  It.  dear  ^.^^  "^^    heart 

""-r.  X  v: 't  r  too  ute.  sh. 

a^Kbed  "-'^^^^  J^;V„  ^  MaHha  Brand  muat 

turned  ''"y- " ''"  'f  ^^   *«   med  to  »rile 
^f^ed     Ye^aaf^--^       ^^^^ 

,tan  that  ko«  "-J™;^.  ^H„t  nUghth. 
Buddenly  p"»e»»^  ^'  l"'  "  y,,   ^t  she 

.  «^—«»  *^:,t  n  loved  «. -^ 

wuld  ever  prepare  for  the   man 
gorbingly,  «.  deepaiiinf^y. 

She  had  only  gone  a  .t»p  «  *"»  ""^     * 
.^.e.    Shegl^.eed^P.-'^-^Si 
a  Budden  hound  »i  d»  «a»  ""       /  .    -^^  »„, 

^,«.,gWdeeV»«t-;P^^^tMadredr- 
beheld.    -Were  you  going  to  leay 


-t 


.-<<  * 


TBS  giro. 


511 


u-e   ready  to  be  my 

;♦   she  said   timidly. 
)wing  upon   her  that 
,  she  had   found  her 
»ken.     She  had  forti- 
ith  the  aasurance  that 
lid   8tiU   remain,   that 
any  passing  over  that 
^od   and  heaven   vrith 
,an  love,  and  the  shel- 
lightB  withhold, 
silent    Uiat   her    heart 
then    too    Ute?     She 
to  Martha  Brand  must 

rd,   she   used   to  snule 

red,  at  the  anxiety  that 

the  breakfest  might  be 

possibly  the    bst   she 

,   man  she  loved  so  ab- 

Bp  or  two  when  Doughiss 
aickly,  her   heart   giving 
^  the  expression  of  his 
riumphant  she'  had  ever 
g  to  leave  me,  MUdred? 


«I  did  not  know  if  you  cared  to  have  me  stoy 
with  you,"  she  spoke  hesitatingly.  "  Besides  I  have 
other  duties  to  perform." 

"Do  not  let  us  speak  of  dnty  just  now.     It  has 
parted  us   so  long.      Can't   you   think  it  a   duty 
to  remain   at  my  side?" 

*'You  will  scarcely  get  a  satisfactory  breakfast 
if  I  do,"  she  said,  with  a  merry  gleam  such  as  he 
had  not  seen  on  her  face  for  years. 

"Never  mind  the  breakfast!  In  the  gladdest 
hour  of  my  life  I  can  accept  any  kind  of  a  break- 
fast" 

"You  will  find  the  kitchen  the  warmest  room 
in  the  house.  You  may  come  with  me  and  I  will 
show  you   how   biscuits   are    made   and  beef-steak 

broUed." 

"You  remind  me  now  of  the  MUdred  of  long 
ago,  only  you  are  sweeter  for  than  in  those  childish 
days,"  he  said  as  they  turned  to  go  into  the 
kitchen  where  Martha  Brand  was  going  around  very 
much  flurried  and  altogether  consumed  with  curi- 
osity. She  was  beginning  to  doubt  if  this  unex- 
pected presence  in  the  house  could  be  Mildred's 
brother  since  she  had  heard  her  say  that  she  was 
older  by  several  years  than  he. 


M9 


[  Thaf.  n.v„  your  b«,.h»r."  .he  »id  in  o«^ 

«     uiHtor   like    that   young    man   wawnw   jr 
own     »«ter    UKe  j  ^^^^.^    ^.^^„ 

They  keep   those    looks    for         ^ 

We'll  never  see  you  hack  here,  .  guess. 

the  wedding  be?'  ^ 

Mad«d  emensed  from  4.  •^~°"    '^''"" 
.    «,  .  very  ama«l  look  on  Doagl—  ^• 
'"^ToIrldh.-anUoip.^daqn.e.ion       «n 

.ery  :r.iou.  W  have  .n,..«d.     ^ou   n™.t^ 
;e7o«rw«lding^Ut.kepU0.^n^..w.^ 

1  w«.t  to  take  yon  .">»•">'"•  ^7"-  u„ 

^-  '"^'„"'   TBn.^p.'St  -Z  long 
picture^Uenes  of  Europe  wm 

'r"r:«on.-..-.-tJ 

pitifully  tew,  but  time  ta  too  ?"«"«>« ''","'^. 

rC«ityltKu™p.»d.nioy«»he.. 
anng.  the  old  world  ta»  to  «>«'     , 


..<<-*- 


HEBO. 

"  she  Bald  in  one  of 
ood  together  in  the 
t»eard  in  the  ftdjoining 
>ther  looking  «t  hiiJ 
r  man  watches  you. 
other  folk'B  BiBtera. 
Bre,Igue«».    When'U 

,  Btore-room    in    time 
>n  Douglaae's  face, 
ited  a  question  I  am 
ered.     You   must  teU 
place  in  a  few    days, 
liere  to  flnd>e    roses 
ear  spent    among    tihe 
will  be  none  too  long. 

le's  years  were  not  so 
too  precious  for  loiter- 
ant  they  may  be,"   Mil- 
oulded  the  buscuit  that 
I   Martha  Brand's  spirits. 
;he  greatest  pleasures  of 
Br  a  moment's  reflection, 
rope   and  enjoy  tiie  best 
\  to  give  I 


THK  KND. 

Dougla««  smiled;  the  look  on  hiK  face  was  one 
of  perfect  content,  though  he  stood  in  a  rathe- 
cold  and  most  desolate-looking  kitehen,  waiting 
for  the  plainest  bmikfast,  pi^hably,  that  he  h.«l 
ever  been  asked  to  partake  of. 

The   breakfast    disposed   of,    it  did   not  require 
much  time  for  Mildred  to  pack  her  modest  ward- 
robe  and  prepare  for  the  homeward  journey;   and 
it  is  needless  to    say    that    the    East-bound    tram 
that  day  bore   a  specially   happy    pair    of    human 
beings.      It    was   a  joyous    greeting   that  awaited 
them  both  at  Mulberry  Street  and  at   Giassmere ; 
and  all  were  pervaded  by  a  spirit  of  true  thank- 
fulness  te.  God,  that  MUdred  had  passed  through 
her  terrible  ordeal  unscathed,  save  the  exhaustion 
from  her  untiring  devotion  to  her  wards. 

A  few  days  later  there  was  a  quiet  weddmg  at 
Grassmere,  and  the  happy  pair  immediately  start- 
ed on  tiieir  promised  European  tiip. 

THB  BND. 


\ 


iK^ssE^;g^^rSiJ^3S;ii*i3£t5i53s&;u^i^--.  ^ss^ses^sk:^'-^^^^;^^^?^"?^'"'^ 


